An American Tragedy
by Flagg1991
Summary: After a one night stand, Luna rejects Lincoln for Luan, leading Lincoln to plot revenge...with the help of a yandere Lucy. Cover by Lentex.
1. Favored of God

_**Love me love me  
Say that you love me  
Fool me fool me  
Go on and fool me  
Love me love me  
Pretend that you love me**_

 **\- The Cardigans**

* * *

Nights are forever. Listening to the cold autumn wind roaring in the eaves, his stomach aching and his head whirling with thoughts, Lincoln Loud slipped in and out of fitful consciousness, falling asleep sometimes just long enough to dream before snapping awake again. He was naked under the covers save for a pair of white panties with purple polka dots that he took from an unattended laundry basket. The fabric was soft and silky against his fevered flesh, and when he moved, a shiver raced up his spine. Sometimes he imagined he heard movement in the hall, and he would go stock still to listen, his heart racing and his penis twitching.

But she didn't come to him.

She _never_ came to him.

Toward dawn, the gnawing loss in his chest was eclipsed by burning anger, and his hands gipped the hem of his blanket. She _knew_ how he felt. She _knew_ how deeply he loved her. Yet, she rejected him. She wouldn't talk to him, wouldn't look at him, would barely acknowledge his presence. She was just like every other girl he had ever loved, from Cristina to Ronnie Anne: They all rejected him, they all laughed at him, they all treated him like common dog shit. He thought she was different, he thought she cared about him...he allowed himself to believe that because she was his sister she would love him and treat him better than the others, but he was wrong, so fucking wrong.

He was stupid. He rose above his station in life and believed for one fleeting moment that he would find love and happiness, but Fate laid its eyes upon him, saw his easy, happy smile...and snatched it from him. He remembered the story of Job, which he'd heard in Sunday School. Job was God's pet human, and God poured out blessing after blessing on Job. One day the Devil came to God and said, 'Job only loves you because you bless him. Why don't you take those away and see how fast he deserts you?' Curse after curse fell onto Job; everything that could go wrong with him, did. He was Job, only without the first being blessed part. From his earliest memory, he was cursed and unhappy. Things never went his way, he never got what he wanted, if something bad was going to happen, it was going to happen to him, he was weak, dominated by women, sisters who were bigger, stronger...that was just the way it was.

Then, for a brief second, he felt such intense happiness that everything that had come before ceased to matter. He should have known it wouldn't last. _He should have fucking known_.

He shook with rage, his teeth clamping painfully together and his eyes bulging from his wan face. A branch scraped the window pane, and the hollow, lonely sound matched the feeling in his heart.

When he slept next, he dreamed of her face, only instead of being soft and warm, it was cold and hard, her eyes narrowed in hatred. "I don't love you," she said, and he jerked awake again, his chest tight. He was sad. Then he was angry. Then he was sad again. Not for the first time, he closed his eyes and spoke to God, asking that he guide her to him, _demanding_ that he be given this one crumb from the plate of joy, but God was dead and didn't answer.

He prayed next to Satan, offering his soul and his services if only His Dark Majesty would grant him this one wish. _Just a week with her...just one week...I will burn several churches in your honor._

Lucifer didn't answer either. The fires of hell crackled alone.

 _Please love me,_ he thought miserably, _please love me..._ then anger consumed him... _or else..._

Trembling now, he sat up against the headboard and crossed his arms. He glanced down at the clock on the nightstand. Red numbers glowed like demonic eyes: 4:58. He chuckled humorlessly. An hour and two minutes until he would have to get up and face another day of not being loved by _her_ , another day of seeing _her_ face and not _having_ her. Fury swept through him. He got up and began to pace, his body thrumming with nervous energy. How could you do this to me? Why would you tease me like this? Why would you make me think you wanted me only to push me away and yell at me? You're a goddamn bitch, I hate you. Fuck you. I shouldn't want you but I do and I hate myself for it.

He was at his door now, his hand resting on the knob. He shook his head and started to turn, but went out into the hall instead. It was dark and silent. Everyone's sleeping peacefully and here I am in torment because of _you_...

Stepping lightly, he went to her door and pressed his ear against it. He couldn't hear anything, but she was in there, snuggled under the covers and smiling in her sleep because she didn't know the pain of loving someone who doesn't love you back...because she was normal, and her life wasn't one disappointment after another...because she wasn't Job the fucking Favored of God.

He put his hand on the knob and started to turn it, but stopped himself. He saw himself slipping beneath the covers next to her...saw her open her big, brown eyes...saw the shock, the anger, heard her hissing for him to leave her alone.

And what would _he_ do?

He didn't know, and that scared him. He would probably cry...but he might do something else...something they would both regret.

Something brushed against his leg and he jumped. It was Cliff the cat. He was purring.

"Go away," Lincoln said.

Cliff purred louder. For some reason the warm, furry feeling against his leg made him mad, and he lashed out with his foot. "Go away!"

The cat complied, but then came back for more. Stupid prick. Flashing, Lincoln reached out, grabbed him around the neck, and yanked him off his feet. The cat let out a terrible sound before Lincoln wrapped a hand around its neck. Panicking, Cliff thrashed and swiped his claws; hot pain seared across Lincoln's chest. Rage filled him, and he tightened his grip, digging his fingers into the cat's soft throat.

Cliff's eyes bulged from their sockets, and his resistance grew weaker. Lincoln watched with knitted brows as the light of life faded, and he went limp. He held the cat by its neck for a long time, just to make sure it was dead. Lincoln's heart was crashing and his lungs sucked air. A strange feeling surged through him, and every nerve ending in his body tingled. He felt...powerful...as though he was finally in control.

He flashed an evil, toothy grin in the darkness, and then glanced over his shoulder at Luna and Luan's door. He wondered what Luna's throat would feel like under his hands, and shivered with delight. A small part of him was repulsed, but she broke his heart...she was just like the others...she deserved it...

Still holding Cliff by the neck, Lincoln went back to his room and closed the door. Remembering the way the cat fought, he masturbated furiously, crying Luna's name as he emptied his sack in a cold, lonely orgasm.

* * *

 _Why does life have to be so hard?_

The girl with the short brown hair drew a deep, watery sigh and turned in her bed. She had been facing the wall and studying the pattern made by the spill of a streetlamp falling through the window for nearly an hour. Now, she faced the bed on the opposite side. Luan was an indistinct shape under the blankets. Luna smiled unconsciously at her best friend, the pain in her heart tinged with happiness. A tingle shot through her core, and she squeezed her legs together against the precious leak. Luan had no idea how deeply Luna loved her, how much she relished looking into her big, hazel eyes and listening to her soft, summery voice. Luna had loved her since they were kids, only then she didn't _know_ she loved her. As a sister, of course, but not as a lover.

Luna affected confidence and self-assurance, but inside, she was afraid...afraid of Luan rejecting her, afraid of making her move and watching it backfire and her sister pull away from her. She couldn't bear the thought of ruining her relationship with Luan. It was for that reason she had not professed her love, and probably never would.

Then there was Lincoln. Poor, poor Lincoln. She took a deep breath and blinked hot tears from her eyes. She didn't mean to hurt him, she really didn't, things just...happened. Being in love with someone who doesn't love you back is the most depressing thing on the face of the earth, and sometimes you need to escape...sometimes when you're home alone save for your brother, you get drunk to ease the pain, and when your sweet, caring, loving brother finds you crying and shitfaced on the floor, you're so touched by his concern you kiss him...and then have sex with him. It shouldn't have happened for _many_ reasons, but chief among them was the fact that her heart belonged always to Luan, and Lincoln was too...sensitive?...for a meaningless one night stand. He felt too deeply, too intensely.

He fell in love with her.

But she didn't love him back.

Not like that.

She tried to explain to him that what happened was wrong and she didn't love him in that way, but he either didn't understand or didn't _want_ to understand, and continued pursuing her, writing her love letters, buying her flowers and stuffed animals, following her around like a little puppy dog...it was _so_ cute, and if she wasn't already in love with Luan, she would most likely fall for him.

Two days ago, he tried to kiss her, and she pushed him away. _Whoa, bro._ He tried to do it again, and again, and finally she snapped at him. _Take a hint, man, I'm not in love with you! I never was and I never will be!_ Her furrowed brows softened when she saw the hurt in his eyes. _Look, you're my bro and you mean a lot to –_ but he was already fleeing, his back hitching as he started to cry.

All Luna could do was throw up her hands and sink onto the edge of her bed. She felt terrible, but it _had_ to be done, you know? She didn't want to string him along or anything. He didn't deserve that; he deserved the honest truth, and she gave it to him because she loved him. If she didn't, she would have avoided conflict and given him false hope. Why not? It would have been a million times easier on her.

She'd been going out of her way to avoid him since then because she felt so bad about the whole thing. It was _her_ fault, after all...her fault he was so broken up and sad...her fault he cried at night, the sound drifting through the vents and keeping her awake even long after it stopped...all her fucking fault. She had to woman up and at least try to talk to him, because he was her brother and he deserved to know exactly what she felt and why. Would she tell him she loved Luan? She didn't know. The prospect of vocalizing her deepest desire frightened her, because words have power and once something's spoken it becomes real, in a way. Though she didn't want to, she _should_. She owed it to him.

She had just fallen asleep when the doorknob rattled, and Cliff cried out in terror as his life drained away...

* * *

In the air duct running over Lincoln's room, Lucy pressed her face to the vent and stared at her brother's upturned face. He fell asleep shortly after masturbating, and Lucy felt a twinge of loss in her stomach. It was just as well, she figured. She didn't have the courage to go down there anyway. Each night, she watched him, her chest pounding and her loins aching, and sighed as she imagined lying naked in his arms, his seed drying on her inner things and his arms thrown protectively around her.

She had always been in love with her brother, though it was only recently that she realized it. She felt a certain kinship with him that she felt with none of her other siblings. For the longest time, she didn't know why; then she came to the realization that she sensed a great darkness in him. Underneath the chipped teeth and cowlick lurked something else...something black and slimy...something that made Lucy's virgin girlhood beat in time with her heart. She had known it was there for a while, but tonight she saw it: His hands wrapped tightly around Cliff's neck, his teeth bared and his brow hard. Her breath caught and her heart raced as the cat fought desperately for its pathetic life. By the time it fell limp, she was turned on, and touched herself until she, too, went limp.

Presently, she sighed and crawled back to the vent over her bed. She removed it and slipped through like a monkey. She replaced it and sat against her headboard, her arms crossed over her scrawny chest and her bottom lip between her teeth. Loving someone who doesn't love you back in the darkest thing Lucy had ever known.

And the most painful.

Would he accept her if she went to him? Would he enter her if she spread her legs for him? Would he bite her and scratch her and choke her until her body was quivering with pain and pleasure?

She desperately hoped so. She _needed_ his love...and his hatred.

* * *

 **This story was inspired by a scene AberrantScript mentioned and** _ **really**_ **wanted to see (bless his dark, diseased little heart). I kept putting the bastard off, but he wouldn't leave me alone, so here, AS, choke on it.  
**

 **Okay, it wasn't entirely like that. I wanted to write a story where Lincoln is the villain, AS suggested an emotionally powerful scene, and, after a month or so collecting my thoughts, I wrote it. I told him, I think, that I was going to go full AberrantScript and maybe try to write in his style or something, I forget, but it slipped my mind and I went full Flagg1991 instead. As a consolation prize, I used song lyrics in the body of the story as he often does and then attributed them to the artist at the end of the chapter. Hope you enjoy.**

 **Songs Referenced:**

 _ **Lovefool**_ **by The Cardigans (1996)**


	2. I Don't Like Mondays

**Guest Stereotype: Yeah, once I stopped drinking and slutting around, my days just...opened up.**

* * *

Lincoln hated Monday mornings. He hated _all_ mornings. And afternoons. And evenings. Standing in line behind Lucy, waiting for the bathroom, he hated _everything_...especially the way Lynn was literally breathing down his neck. His teeth clenched and his fists balled. How fucking _rude_. Here, let me press up against this person and puff my hot halitosis all over their neck because I'm the only person who exists and everyone else can go to hell.

He took a deep breath. He was close to spinning and punching her in the face. He imagined the way her nose would feel as it crunched under his fist and the way her eyes would widen with shock and hurt as she tipped back, and a sharp grin slashed across his face. It would be like what he did to Cliff the night before, only better, the feeling of _power_ fuller, more complete.

When the door opened and Luna came out, Lincoln's heart dropped into his stomach, his eyes instinctively widening to drink in as much of her as they could...her messy brown hair, her freckled face, her big eyes, the soft, creamy flesh of her thighs as the cuffs of her shorts rode up. She glanced at him and looked quickly away, hurrying past him. His heart panged and something cold and hard formed in the pit of his stomach...something like hatred.

"Can I cut in front of you? Thanks," Lynn said, ducking around both him and Lucy and slamming the door. Lincoln's neck and face blazed red. He felt his nails digging painfully into the soft padding of his palm and tried to uncurl his fingers, but couldn't; they were hooked in rage and wouldn't budge.

After a minute, Lynn came out, bopped Lucy on the head as she passed, and flicked Lincoln's cowlick. "Good looking out, guys," she said, and laughed cruelly.

Lincoln turned and almost started after her.

"You can go first," Lucy said behind him. Lincoln heard her, but his eyes were fixed on Lynn as she disappeared into her room. She was the worst out of them all, always picking on him, always running over top of him. He fucking _hated_ Lynn.

"Lincoln?"

Lincoln spun, and Lucy recoiled. "I heard you!" he spat.

Though Lucy showed no emotion, her heart sped up and her center pooled with moisture. Looking into his fiery eyes, she was certain he would hit her...and she wanted him to.

Grinding his teeth, he pushed past her and slammed the door. Her breathing was short and her face was flush. She imagined him punching her in the mouth, knocking one of her teeth out and letting loose a torrent of hot, coppery blood, and the crotch of her panties dampened.

Sigh.

In her room, she gathered her things and went downstairs. Her sisters were at the dining room table save for Lynn, who was standing at the kitchen counter and shoving a sports bar into her stupid face.

"I've always wondered," Lori said, glancing at Lola, who sat next to her, "how _do_ you win all those beauty pageants?"

"Uh, good genes," Lola said haughtily.

"You mean you _pull down the judges' jeans_ ," Luan said.

Lola's eyes flashed. "That is _gross!_ I do _not_ do that."

In the kitchen, Lucy got a bowl and started to fill it with cereal before she realized she wasn't even hungry; her thoughts (and body) were consumed with her brother, the object of her dark, forbidden desire. She finished filling the bowl anyway. It wasn't time to leave for school yet and she had to fill the time somehow. She grabbed the milk and poured some into the bowl, which she then took into the dining room. She sat next to Leni not because she wanted to but because there was nowhere else except for next to Luna, and Lucy hated Luna. Luna broke Lincoln's heart. Luna was scum and just looking at her made Lucy sick.

"At least I _could_ if I wanted to," Lola huffed and crossed her arms. "You, on the other hand, would wind up with pubes sticking out of your ugly, nasty braces and _everyone_ would know what a ho you are."

Everyone laughed cruelly, except Luan, whose face flushed pink, and Lucy, who found pointless sibling banter tiring.

When Lincoln came in, she sat up straight and followed him with her eyes. He looked straight ahead, his face hard and his brows lowered. His arms were flat against his sides, his hands balled into beautiful, destructive fists. Lucy's center pinched and she crossed her legs.

He disappeared into the kitchen, and Lucy waited for him to come back with bated breath. After a few moments, he did, a bowl in his hands. He cast his glance around the table, and froze when he saw where the only open spot was. He breathed a disgusted sigh and went back into the kitchen: A heartbeat later, the sound of glass shattering against metal filled the room, and everyone ceased their meaningless chatter.

"Whoa!" Lynn cried. "What the fuck, dude?"

Lincoln stormed out of the kitchen, his face beet red and his eyes pooled with hate. A cold shadow passed over the table, and no one spoke until the front door slammed.

"What's _his_ problem?" Lori asked.

"I don't know," Lynn called from the kitchen, "but he smashed his bowl in the sink."

"I guess it's his time of the month," Luan shrugged.

"Great," Lola said, "and we just got over Lori's PMS bitchfest."

Lori shot her sister a glare. "Can it, JonBenét."

Lucy glanced at Luna, and noticed the look of misery on her face. _This is your fault,_ Lucy thought silently. _You hurt him._

She should hurt Luna.

Hurt her bad.

* * *

Lincoln stalked along the cracked ribbon of sidewalk flanking Franklin Avenue. The sky was gray and the colors in the trees overhanging the path were faded, bloodless, but Lincoln didn't notice. One fucking place to sit and it was next to _her_. It was this kind of petty bullshit that the universe heaped on him day after day after day...small things that eventually accumulate and break your back...or your sanity. And what awaited him at school? Ostracization? A best friend whom he was beginning to hate because Lincoln saw in him a reflection of himself? Ronnie Anne Santiago, another girl who wanted to dominate him in some sort of 'romantic' power play bullshit? He was _done_ being dominated by women. He was done being dominated _period._ Fuck everyone. Fuck everything. He lashed out and kicked a rock, and it flew into the street. _I hope someone hits it and flips_ , he thought angrily.

He shouldn't even go to school today. He should go to the arcade and play games until it was time to go home. He didn't care about his grades. He didn't have any money, though, or else he would have.

When he got to school fifteen minutes later, he fought his way through the crowded halls and got to his locker with five minutes to spare before the first bell. His stomach rumbled. So much for stopping in the cafeteria and getting something to eat. Fucking Luna. Why did she have to be so beautiful? Why couldn't he stop thinking of the way she mounted him and rocked her hips back and forth, her full breasts jiggling with the sway of her rhythm? Why couldn't he get the dank smell of their mingled love out of his nose? Why couldn't he just fucking forget the bitch?

He didn't know, and he felt a sudden crash of depression. He grabbed his science book from his locker and dragged himself to class, where he sat in the back just as the bell rang.

Why didn't she want him?

Wasn't he good enough?

Did he please her? Was it his stupid face, or his white hair, or his chipped teeth? Hot tears filled his eyes and the world blurred. He blinked them away, leaned back, and crossed his arms. He should kill himself when he got home. Show her and the rest of them. Would they even care? Or would they actually be _glad?_ Or worse of all, would they feel nothing at all?

He pictured them finding his body on his bed, his wrists slashed and weeping crimson and his face the color of milk. They would scream and cry for each other, but alone none of them would give half a shit. Luna would probably care the least. Hell, she _would_ probably be happy. _There's_ that _problem taken care of_. _And to think...he wanted to love and worship me. What a putz!_

Anger shot through his depression, and his muscles tensed. Is that all he was to them? A fucking putz? A goddamn _joke_? Did she really think _that_ little of him?

 _I'm going to make her pay,_ he thought, _I'm going to make her sorry she ever hurt me_. He didn't know what he was going to do or when he was going to do it, but in that moment he decided that _something_ was going to happen to poor, pretty Luna, something sad, something heartbreaking...something she brought on herself.

* * *

Luna Loud had never been more down in her life. Luan had no idea she was in love with her and Lincoln, her only brother, was heartbroken. She didn't know which was worse: The pain she felt for herself or the pain she felt for her brother. She imagined he must be feeling what she herself would feel if Luan rejected her...which served to make her even more reluctant to express her feelings to her sister. She didn't want to be upset like Lincoln; she didn't want to throw her breakfast into the sink just because the only place to sit was next to the one you loved...the one who didn't love you.

Sitting in algebra class, her chin resting despondently in her upturned palm, she thought once more of giving in and being with Lincoln. She did not love him the way she loved Luan, but she did love him, and he was a beautiful person...she could see herself finding _some_ sort of happiness with him.

Only she couldn't be with him, because she knew deep down that one day she _would_ tell Luan how she felt, damn the consequences. She wasn't as strong as everyone seemed to think she was. She would break and bare her soul to Luan, and she would quiver with terror as she did it, because Luan held her heart in her hand and all it would take to squash it forever was a simple shake of the head.

No. She couldn't bring herself to go to Lincoln, because that would be like saying he was second best, and that wasn't right. He was second best to no one...he was just different...the way everyone's different from everyone else. He deserved better than to be slapped in the face by her settling for him. He deserved someone who loved him madly the way she loved Luan, someone who was completely head-over-heels for him and who would do anything in the world for him because he was her everything.

When the final bell rang, she gathered her things and walked home in a cold, drizzling rain, her hands in her jacket pockets and her head bent. She was walking up the sidewalk when she saw Lincoln coming from the opposite direction, and her heart throbbed. He crossed the driveway and the front lawn without acknowledging her presence. If he truly felt for her what she felt for Luan, and she suspected that he did, then he was all too aware that she was near.

Inside, the house was dark and silent. Lincoln was probably in his room, where the chances of seeing her were small.

Small, but not nonexistent. She climbed the stairs and went to his door, where she knocked. "What?" he called out sharply.

"Hey, bro," she said, her voice unsteady, "can I come in? We need to talk."

Sitting on his bed, Lincoln's eyes narrowed. The last person in the world he wanted to see now was Luna: He'd rather have an army of Lynns in his room than one beautiful Luna. Instead of telling her to go away, however, he said, "Yeah," and crossed his arms, not because he was angry, but because he was _cold_.

The door eased open, and Luna slipped nervously in. She was wearing a pair of jeans and a black coat. Lincoln's heart sputtered when she looked at him, a sad expression on her face. She was beautiful.

And he hated her all the more.

"Hey," she said, "h-how are you doing?"

"Fine," he said shortly.

"Look," she said, bowing her head and rubbing the back of her neck. "I'm sorry I snapped at you the other day. You just gotta understand...what happened was...it just happened. I'm not in love with you. And it's not because of you, you know...like...you're good looking and you have a beautiful soul...I'm..." she stopped and sighed. She leaned back against the door. "I'm in love with someone else."

Lincoln's stomach turned. "Who?" he asked.

Luna looked stricken for a moment. She was looking at the window next to him when she spoke. "Luan."

That one word hung heavy in the air. An image of the sister in question flashed through Lincoln's mind: The overbite, the braces, the ponytail that bobbed as she stalked through the hall looking for someone to make the butt of a sick joke. _That_ bitch?

Lincoln's lips puckered as if he'd just sucked something sour, and he looked away so that she wouldn't see.

"Linc..." she started, but he held up a hand.

"It's fine," he said.

"Please, Linc," she begged.

He turned to her. "Really. I get it."

"I'm sorry, I..."

Lincoln looked back at the wall in a gesture that indicated the conversation was over. Wiping her tearful eyes with the heels of her palms, Luna left, and, alone, he fought back tears of his own.

In the vent above his bed, Lucy clenched her fists. Luna just couldn't leave him alone...she _had_ to rip open his wounds...

 _I'll kill you for hurting him,_ she vowed, _and Luan too..._

* * *

 **Songs Referenced:**

 _ **I Don't Like Mondays**_ **by The Boomtown Rats (1979 – title only)**


	3. Love and Hate

_Luan._

She was in love with Luan.

Lincoln flashed, snatched an Ace Savvy comic from his nightstand, and ripped it down the center, his teeth bared and his eyes blazing with fury. He balled the pieces in his hands and threw them at the door.

Luan.

Lincoln barked harsh laughter. Luan Loud, she of the shitty jokes and horrible puns, the girl who savaged them every April Fool's Day and laughed about it for the whole year after, delighting in her sadistic pranks the way a James Bond villain delights in their plan to blow up the Moon or Alderan or what the fuck ever. Lu-fucking-an. He called up an image of her face and hatred filled him. Why do _you_ get Luna's love? Why does the universe let _you_ have something so precious?

Growling, Lincoln jumped off of his bed, sprang toward his dresser, and ripped one of his shirts off its wire hanger, bending it in the process. He balled it up and threw it at the wall, then he ripped down another one and flung it aside. He swiped all the junk off his dresser and kicked his X-Box against the wall. He was seething, huffing and puffing like an animal, his shoulders rising and falling in an angry rhythm. He looked around for something else to destroy, but there was nothing. He lived in a fucking closet like a dirty little secret and he didn't have shit to his name. There was only the wall. He drew back his fist and slammed it into the plaster, indenting it. He drew back and threw another blow, this one punching a hole. Rage coursed through him, and heat spread across his knuckles. He looked at them with absent eyes. They were scratched and bloody. A knock came at the door, and he turned. _Oh, what's wrong, Lincy? I totally care_ so _much about why you're upset._

Or maybe it was Dad and he was going to get yelled at. Why not? He was the whipping boy of the family anyway.

He grabbed the knob and ripped the door open: Lana jumped back, her eyes flashing with fear. _"What?"_

She looked up at him, her mouth working but no sound coming out. Her stupid face made him mad.

"H-H-Have you seen Cliff? He's missing."

Yes, in fact, he had; he was stuffed into a shoebox under Lincoln's bed.

"No," Lincoln said, "ask Lisa. She probably chopped him up for an experiment."

Lana's eyes widened. "You think she'd really do that?"

Lincoln nodded and grinned sadistically. "I saw her skin a raccoon alive once."

Lana trembled. "R-Really?"

"Cliff's probably dead, Lana. Really. And you know what?"

She shook her head. Tears stood in her eyes, Lincoln noted with a rush of satisfaction.

He leaned in and smiled. "He probably _suffered_."

Lana broke down crying and fled. Lincoln slapped his knee as hard as he could. "Get it?" he yelled, his voice filling the hall. He was laughing when he shut the door.

* * *

Lucy went into the kitchen and looked around. She didn't see anyone except for Lynn. She was in the backyard bouncing a soccer ball on the top of her head, her eyes rolled up to look at it and her lips moving as she counted the strikes. How many licks does it take to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop? And how many hits on the head does it take to scramble a thirteen-year-old girl's brain? Lucy counted ten as she stood next to the basement door, so more than that.

Throwing another look around, she opened the door and slipped in, pulling it silently closed behind her. She cautiously descended the stairs, trailing her fingers along the dusty banister. It felt good to be proactive. She absently hummed a song she'd heard her father play...the type of song she liked but would never admit to.

 _You turn me out, you turn me on  
_

 _You turned me loose then you turned me wrong_

She reached the bottom of the stairs and went to the dusty workbench under the rectangular window. Murky sunlight fell through and bathed the space in cold white. She knelt.

 _You dropped a bomb on me  
_

 _Baby, you dropped a bomb on me_

She pulled a dog-eared cardboard box out from under the table and opened the flaps. Inside, she found what she was looking for sitting on top of a Christmas reef: A pack of sparklers from last 4th of July. She opened it and counted them. Twenty. The website said thirty. She took the reef out and laid it on the dirt floor. She shifted through stockings and a doorhanger featuring a happy pilgrim and a turkey. Below that, she found another pack and grinned broadly. Fate was on her side.

She took it out and counted. Thirty-four sparklers total.

Feeling immensely proud of herself, she replaced the reef and closed the box, shoving it back under the table. A new song came to mind, one she vaguely recalled playing over a montage of nuclear explosions in a movie she saw once.

 _We'll meet again  
_

 _Don't know where  
_

 _Don't know when  
_

 _But I know we'll meet again some sunny day_

By the looks of those explosions, no one's going to meet anyone ever again. That thought made her giggle.

She grabbed the sparklers and stood, then lifted the back of her black blouse. She stuck them into her leggings and then pulled the hem back down. She climbed the stairs and eased the door open, poking her head out and looking around. Lynn was still bouncing the ball off her head. Small minds, she thought, are content with monotony.

Acting natural, she slipped out of the basement and closed the door behind her. She crossed to table, grabbed a chair, and dragged it over to the cabinet next to the fridge. She climbed up and opened one of the doors. Scanning the shelves, she spotted what she was looking for: A roll of tin foil. She grabbed it, closed the door, jumped down, and dragged the chair back to the table.

With (most) of her supplies in hand, she hurried up the stairs and stashed them under her bed. Now all she needed was an aerosol can.

 _Lincoln will be so proud of me_ , she thought, and grinned.

* * *

At dinner, Luna could _feel_ the bad vibes rolling off her brother. She made it a point not to look at him, but several times the hair on the back of her neck stood straight up, and she was sure he was glaring at her. When the tension became too much, she fixed on Luan, her heat beating faster and everything else ceasing to matter. When Luan looked up at her once, her big, greenish-brown eyes sparkling, Luna lost control of herself and giggled. She couldn't help it; her sister had that effect on her.

Luan smiled beautifully, her face flushing pink (or was it already a lovely shade of pink?). "Gee, Lune, I didn't even say anything."

"I know," Luna said, "you just look funny is all."

Luan's mouth dropped open in an O, then she grinned and threw her roll at Luna. Luna ducked and laughed. "Hey."

"Luan, stop doing that," Mom admonished.

"We do _not_ need another Loud family foodfight," Dad said, forking a hunk of potato into his mouth. "Not after the last one." The last foodfight started with Lana and Lola; Lana threw a hotdog at Lola, and it landed in Lucy's hair. Lucy retaliated by flinging mashed potatoes at them both, splattering Lana, Lola, Luna, and Lynn. From there things kind of went crazy.

"Sorry, Dad," Luan said and fixed Luna with squinted eyes. _You're dead,_ she mouthed.

Luna beamed. _Come at me, bitch._

Luan shook her head and looked pointedly down at her plate. Luna sighed inwardly. That girl has _no_ idea what she does to me. How many times had Luan changed in front of her, giving her a full view of her pretty white panties and bra – and sometimes even her small, pert beasts, not knowing how _hot_ it made her? Too many to count...not that Luna was complaining. Any chance she got to see that smooth, milky flesh was a reason to be happy...and a little flustered.

When she was finished, she asked to be excused, and took her plate to the sink, where she washed it and sat it in the drying rack. Upstairs, she grabbed her guitar and sat back on her bed, crossing her legs and resting one booted foot on her knee. She stummed the strings and blew a puff of air. She'd been trying for over six months to write a song to Luan...something slow and heartfelt and beautiful, just like Luan herself, but she crashed and burned every time she tried. Articulating her emotions normally wasn't very difficult, but when it came to Luan, she was a sputtering wreck.

She strummed the strings again, then started to play the chorus of song that always made her think of Luan. She sang what she could remember in a low voice:

" _If you leave me you'll make me cry  
_

 _When I think of you saying good bye  
_

 _Oh, the sky turns to a deeper blue  
_

 _That's - that's how I'd feel if I lost you"_

When she was finished, she strummed the strings one more time and sighed. She sat the guitar aside and got up. Writing a song was so easy...but writing a song for the one you love is so, so, _so_ hard.

* * *

Lincoln Loud passed the evening lying on his bed, his fingers laced over his chest and his eyes focused on the overhead light. Maybe if he looked at it long enough he would go blind and never have to see her again. That would be nice, because it wasn't like he could avoid her forever. She was his sister. He was stuck with her until one of them died.

 _I can't stay in my room forever,_ he thought, only he could. Fuck all of them. He was sick of seeing their faces and hearing their voices anyway, especially her voice...low, raspy, sexy...he shook with rage. Why couldn't he fucking stop thinking about her? Ah! It was going to drive him insane. He sat up and ran his hands through his hair. He _had_ to get her off his mind, but how?

 _By getting back at her_.

But how would he do it? How could he shatter her heart the way she shattered his? Hurt Luan?

A deadly grin spread across his face. That would _really_ hurt her. Then...then maybe...he would hurt her too.

He jumped when someone knocked on the door. He threw a glance at the clock on the nightstand and frowned. It was almost 12:30 in the morning. Who in the hell was still awake, and why were they knocking on his door?

Was it Luna?

"Come in!" he called, his spirits lifting.

They fell when Lucy slipped in and shut the door behind her. He rolled his eyes and laid back against his pillow. "What do you want?" he asked.

She turned, came over, and knelt on the bed. Lincoln's brow furrowed, but softened when she grabbed his face in both of her hands and kissed him, the tip of her tongue pushing insistently against his lips. For a moment he was stricken, but then he cupped the back of her neck in his hand and opened his mouth, allowing her tongue to enter and meeting it with his. She swung her leg over his stomach and mounted him; she kissed him deeply, desperately.

When she pulled away, their eyes locked. Lincoln was breathing heavily.

"I know what she did to you," Lucy said, and stroked his forehead. "I know how badly she hurt you...and I want to help you."

"Help me?" he asked, finding his voice.

"Get back at her." She ran her hand down his cheek. _"Kill_ her."

Lincoln blinked.

Lucy shifted against his crotch, and he felt himself beginning to swell. "I have a plan," she said, then a ghost of a smile touched her lips. "I think you're going to like it."

"What is it?" he asked, suddenly interested.

"I'll tell you," she said, then began to draw back, "when I'm done."

She scooted down and unbuttoned his jeans. His heart was racing and he propped himself up on his elbows, his wide eyes fixed on his little sister. With nimble fingers, she unzipped his pants and peeled the flaps back. A bulge pressed against his white briefs. She hooked her fingers into them and yanked them down; he sprang free, his length twitching at the promise being touched.

Without a word, she wrapped her hand around his shaft and took his head into her moist mouth. Hot sensations raced up his body, and he flopped back against the pillow with a breathless gasp. She slid her head slowly back and forth, taking him deeper with every pass. Soon he was poking the back of her throat, and his eyes rolled back in his head. She went faster, gathering speed and swishing her salvia and his precum around his increasingly tight member. He grabbed the covers in his hands and held on, his entire body burning and the room spinning around him.

He moaned as his orgasm started welling up from his depths. Sensing his impending climax, Lucy went faster, her lips scraping roughly against him. When he came, he cried out, filling his little sister's mouth with pump after pump of sperm. She took every drop, then lifted up, ropes of his spent seed tethering her lips to his penis. She threw back her head and swallowed; Lincoln's eyes widened as his watched his fluid dripping down her chin.

She wiped her mouth on the arm of her blouse and crawled next to him, where she laid on her back.

"Was that good?" she asked.

Lincoln nodded.

"Good. I've never done that before." She turned her head and looked at him. "Do you want to hear my plan now?"

"Yes," Lincoln said. He pulled up his pants and underwear, "but could you face away from me? Your breath stinks."

* * *

 **Songs Referenced:**

 _ **You Dropped a Bomb On Me**_ **by The Gap Band (1982)**

 _ **We'll Meet Again**_ **by Vera Lynn (1939)**

 _ **Love Song**_ **by AC/DC (1975)**


	4. Conspiracy to Commit Murder

Tuesday morning dawned gray and cold; by the time Luna was dressed and heading downstairs, rain hissed in the street.

The weather matched her mood.

In the kitchen, she went to the pantry and opened it, taking the first box of cereal she saw: Cookie Crisp. She didn't particularly like Cookie Crisp but she was hungry and didn't care what she ate. She took a bowl from a cabinet above the sink, sat it on the counter, and filled it halfway, finishing it off with some milk. She was sticking the milk back into the fridge when Lori came in. "I'm driving you guys to school today," she said.

"Alright," Luna said. She already figured. On days like today, Mom caught a ride to work and left the van.

"And Cliff is still missing."

"Really?" Luna asked, her brow knitting. No one had seen Cliff since the night before last. In a house as big as theirs, a cat could find a million places to hide, but that wasn't like Cliff; if some cats are overly skittish, Cliff was overly friendly. Within moments of walking through the door, anyone (and everyone) got a visit from Cliff. He would rub against their legs, thread through their feet (just the other day Luna tripped over him and banged her head off the floor), and, if they sat down, jump into their lap. Dad always joked that if Jason Voorhees somehow got into the house, all dead and dripping with the blood of prior victims, Cliff would find a way to make friends with him.

"Yup," Lori said, crossing to the coffee pot and pouring herself a cup. "His food and water haven't been touched."

Worry knotted in Luna's stomach. That wasn't good. He could be hurt or sick somewhere. "We're gonna have to look for him," she said.

"After school," Lori agreed, leaning against the counter and taking a sip of her coffee.

 _He might be dead by then,_ Luna thought grimly, then went into the dining room. She sat just as Lynn ran in from the living room, turned, and pretended to catch a ball. "Touchdown!" she cried and spiked the 'ball' against the floor. Luan came in after her, a bounce in her step, and Luna smiled. "I didn't even throw the ball yet, Lynn," she said.

"Yes you did," Lynn said, "otherwise I wouldn't have caught it, now would I?"

"That was a fake ball," Luan said. She turned her big, beautiful eyes to Luna, and Luna's heart stopped mid-beat. "Right, Lune? You saw it?"

"Y-Yeah, I did," Luna hitched, her cheeks getting warm.

Luan turned back to Lynn, her ponytail swishing. "See?"

Lynn waved her hand. "You two losers wouldn't know a real ball from a hole in the ground."

She and Luan disappeared into the kitchen. Lola, Lana, and Leni came next, the twins shoving each other and arguing. "He was _obviously_ wearing some kind of prosthetic or something," Lola said.

"Nuh-uh, he just tucked it in," Lana said, and shoved Lola.

"Uh, I'm telling you, he was wearing something."

Luna couldn't help her curiosity. "What are you guys arguing about now?"

"You know in _Silence of the Lambs,_ how the dude tucks his thing in and dances in front of the mirror?" Lana asked. "And you see it and he looks like a woman? He really tucked it in. Lola thinks he was wearing something."

"He was," Lola said, and slapped her sister in the arm.

"No he _wasn't._ "

"Like, that's a weird thing for two six-year-olds to be arguing about," Leni said, scratching her head,

"Uh, we're refined," Lola said. "We don't watch cartoons."

"Except Bob the Builder," Lana said. "That show's boss."

"That show sucks," Lola said.

"No it _doesn't_."

"It's gayer than Paul Lynd."

Lana spun on Lola, her fists balled. "I'm going to do to you what George Foreman did to Joe Frazier," she said tightly.

Lola bared her teeth. "Try and I'll do to you what Muhammad Ali did to George Foreman."

"Like, break it up," Leni said, getting in between them. "You can play with your George Foreman grill later."

The three of them disappeared into the kitchen just as Lynn and Luan came back in and sat down.

Luna was so caught up in staring at her beautiful sister that she didn't notice Lincoln and Lucy until they crossed into the kitchen. Great, there goes _my_ peaceful morning. She shook her head and focused back on Luan...and it was all better. Luan spooned some Cookie Crisp into her mouth and looked at Luna, her brow furrowing. "What?" she asked, her mouth full.

"Nothing," Luna said innocently. "I just can't believe you're going to school dressed like that."

"Like what?" Luan asked. "I'm wearing normal clothes."

"It's cold and rainy. Maybe try long sleeves for once?"

Luan shrugged. "That's what jackets are for."

"And the skirt?"

"My legs don't get cold."

"You're full of shit."

Lincoln and Lucy came in from the kitchen and sat next to each other at the end of the table...as far away from her as possible, Luna noted.

This time looking at her sister wasn't enough. She sighed and leaned back in her chair, casting a glance at Lincoln. He was bent over his bowl. Lucy, however, turned her head, and even though her eyes were hidden behind her bangs, Luna could feel them boring into her. Great, was Lucy mad at her now, too?

Luna looked away. This was too much. Out of all her siblings (aside from Luan), Luna had always been closest to her baby bro. She was the most excited when they found out Mom was going to have a boy, after all, and when he was a baby she would sing to him when he was cranky. Whenever he had a problem, he came to her, and whenever she needed someone's opinion on something she was writing or playing, she went to him.

 _I ruined our relationship._

That stark realization struck her like a slap, and her heart seized. She ruined her relationship with her only brother and there was probably nothing she could ever do to fix it. They would never be close again, even if he eventually got over her and moved on. He would always be guarded around her...she would never be just his sister...she would always be the girl who broke his heart.

When she felt hot tears welling in her eyes, she grabbed her bowl, stood up, and hurried into the kitchen. She dumped the remainder of her cereal in the trash, dropped the bowl and spoon into the sink, and gripped the edge of the countertop, trying as hard as she could to keep from breaking down and giving voice to the pain inside. When she was sure she had herself under control, she went through the dining room, keeping her gaze straight ahead. In the living room, she dropped onto the couch next to Lori, who was working on her second cup of coffee.

"Everyone almost ready?" she asked.

"Yeah," Luna replied, her voice thick.

Lori glanced up at her, her eyes softening. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Luna lied. "Totally rad."

* * *

Lincoln was aware of Luna looking at him, but he ignored her. Next to him, Lucy laid her hand on his leg, and he stiffened. He ignored her, too; he ran Lucy's plan through his mind for the millionth time since she told it to him last night, and he couldn't find major fault with it. A part of him was repelled by the idea because he loved Luna, but another part relished it because he hated her, too. When he thought of how cruelly she treated him, how she made love to him only to turn her back on him for Luan, he decided. Nice guys finish last, they said, and Lincoln Loud was tired of finishing last...and getting the short end of the stick...and being everyone's butt monkey.

All that ended tonight.

He and Lucy sat in the very back of the van with Lynn. When Lynn wasn't looking, Lucy kept touching his leg and trying to slip her hand into his; it was really annoying. He couldn't deal with this shit right now. Luna was right in front of him. He could smell her scent and his heart ached. She deserved what was coming to her. Luan, too. He grinned as he imagined the carnage Lucy described.

" _It might kill both of them outright,"_ she said last night as she faced away from him. She pressed her butt against his crotch, and he allowed it because he wanted to hear what she had to say. _"If it doesn't, the fire will do our light work."_

He couldn't lie, he was impressed. He didn't know his little sister was so...uh...crafty. He would have expected something like this from Lana, but not Lucy. _"You learn a lot of things from books,"_ she told him.

At school, they parted ways, and he spent the rest of the day thinking of Luna. At lunch, Lucy made it a point to sit with him and get as close as she could, at one point even rubbing her head against his arm like a cat.

"Could you please stop?" he asked sharply, holding his hand up.

"Sorry," she said, and sat up straight.

He was just opening his milk when Ronnie Anne Santiago slipped into the seat across from him. "Hey, lame-ass, how's it hanging?"

"Fine," Lincoln said tightly. He wasn't in the mood for her shit right now. He could barely handle Lucy as it was.

Ronnie arched her eyebrow. "You don't _sound_ fine. You sound pissed."

"I _am_ pissed," he flashed, "so why don't you fuck off?"

Her face darkened. "Fine," she replied, and got up.

"She's a skank," Lucy said.

"Shut up, Lucy."

She glanced at him, a small smile on her face. He was treating her like dirt and she _liked_ it.

* * *

The girl with the black hair took an empty shoebox from under her bed and sat it on her nightstand. From between the mattress and the boxspring, she took two packs of sparklers. At her dresser, she opened a drawer and removed a plate, a roll of aluminum foil, and a can of spray paint she took from the garage after she and Lincoln got home. She put all of these in the shoebox, tucked it under her arm, and went downstairs. In the five minutes she had been upstairs, Lori, Leni, and that hateful bitch Luna came home. Lori and Leni were sitting on the couch and watching _The Robert Irvine Show_ while Luna lounged in the armchair, her legs thrown over one arm and her head resting against the other. A book was open before her. Lucy flashed a devious smile as she passed. In just a few short hours, she and her little sister-girlfriend would be dead, and Lincoln would be _all_ hers; the prospect made her shiver.

Walking with a springing step, Lucy began to hum a Ramones song. She liked The Ramones.

 _Gonna smile, I'm gonna laugh_

 _You're gonna get a blood bath  
_

 _And in a moment of passion_

 _Get the glory like Charles Manson_

You gotta go go go go goodbye glad to see you go go go go goodbye...GOODBYE!

In the gloomy kitchen, she tossed a glance around and slipped into the basement, not bothering to turn the light on. Speaking of Charles Manson, that reminded her of a song by The Man himself:

 _Submission is a gift_

 _Go on, give it to your brother  
_

 _Love and understandin' is for one another  
_

 _I'm your kind, I'm your kind_

She had given her brother the gift of her submission, and she relished being under his control, just as Manson's family had relished being under _his_ control. He was their dark god, and Lincoln was hers.

At the bottom of the stairs, she crossed to a workbench under a window. Muted light spilled across the table. She sat the shoebox down and opened it, taking out the plate, the sparklers, the spray paint, and the tinfoil, all of which she arrayed across the table's surface.

 _My life is yours and  
_

 _You can have my world_

She grabbed an old kitchen chair with a wobbly leg from under the stairs, carried it over, and sat it before the table.

 _Never had a lesson  
_

 _I ever learned  
_

She sat down and shook the sparklers out of the box.

 _But I know we all get our turn  
_

She laid out a 20 inch piece of foil and ripped it from the tube. She set it aside, grabbed the plate, and began crushing the sparklers into a fine dust, leaving two aside to act as a fuse.

 _And I love you._

She smiled dreamily as she worked. With Luna out of the way and not always in Lincoln's face as a constant reminder of their little one night stand, he would move on and fall right into her waiting arms. She would treat him better, anyway. She _had_ given him her submission, hadn't she? That's the greatest gift one can give to another. What did _Luna_ give him? A broken heart...sleepless nights...tears...pain...oh, she deserved this _so_ much. Lucy was going to enjoy blowing Luna and Luan up. Her only regret was that she wouldn't be able to actually watch it.

Would the whole house catch fire? It was certainly a possibility...one that made her tingle between her legs. She thought of all the videos of fires and explosions she watched online, the licking flames and thick, choking smoke turning her on: The Symbionese Liberation Army shootout/BBQ of 1974 (how that house _burned_ ), Waco, The Oklahoma City Bombing, and, her personal favorite, 9-11. The way fire mushroomed out of the North Tower, scattering debris and body parts across Lower Manhattan, _really_ got her going. Would the blast be powerful enough to rip Luna and Luan apart, or would she have to rely on the shrapnel? Either way suited her fine, though Luna _really_ deserved to be spread far and wide. Lucy imagined her family finding pieces of her long after, in the vents, under the carpet, in the wall, and giggled darkly.

When she was done crushing up the sparklers, she drew the tin foil close and sat the spray paint can in the center. She picked up the plate, but before she could dump it, the door opened and she froze. Footsteps descended the stairs, the treads creaking. Her heartbeat sped up and she looked over her shoulder, certain that she had been discovered.

"It's just me," Lincoln said, coming out of the shadows, and she relaxed. He came over, laid his hands on her shoulders, and bent forward, Lucy thrilling at his touch and closeness. "How's it coming?"

"Good," she said, and leaned her head against Lincoln's hand. He took it away and shoved it into his pocket. "I just need to put it all together. It's the hardest part, but it's not that hard."

Lincoln took a step back and gestured with his hands. "Do it, then."

Lucy turned back to the table, picked up the plate, and carefully sifted the powder onto the foil. Reaching into a pocket of her blouse, she pulled out a Swiss Army knife and pulled out the smallest blade: A nail file. Bending over, her tongue slipping out and pressing against her upper lip in concentration, Lucy used the file to heap the powder around the bottom of the can, taking great pains to make sure none went _under_ the can, otherwise the bomb would be a dud.

Arms crossed, Lincoln watched.

"Uh, Lincoln?"

"What?"

"You might want to take a walk."

Lincoln blinked, his brows narrowing down angrily. "A walk?"

"Yes," Lucy said, scraping the file across the foil, making sure to get every last speck. "I've never done this before so there might be a chance it'll blow, and if it does, you'll be washing my guts out of your pretty white hair for the next two weeks. So take a walk."

Lincoln sighed. "Fine."

He started up the stairs, but Lucy stopped him. "I love you."

For a moment he didn't reply. "Yeah," he said, then went upstairs.

Lucy sighed dreamily as she scraped the final particles into place. She didn't get every single one, but that was okay. Next, she took one of the sparklers she'd saved and bent the bare wire handhold up. She placed the fuse in the dust, next to the can, and carefully wrapped it, making sure that the end of the fuse stuck out. She grabbed the shoebox, and gingerly sat the package inside. She closed the box, stood, and hurriedly cleaned her work station, taking the plate and replacing the chair next to the stairs. She tucked the box under her arm and ascended the treads. In the kitchen, she put the plate in the sink and took the bomb upstairs, passing through the living room with a tiny smile on her lips. Luna and Lori were where she had left them; Leni was off being stupid somewhere else.

She ignored Luna as she started up the stairs to the second floor. The stupid, stinking bitch might have Lincoln's heart in her hands, but pretty soon she wouldn't...because she wouldn't even _have_ hands.

That made Lucy giddy, and she giggled.

* * *

 **Songs Referenced:**

 _ **Glad to See You Go**_ **by The Ramones (1977)**

 _ **Cease to Exist**_ **by Charles Manson (1968)**


	5. Act of Terror

Was she the only one who felt the tension? She looked around at the faces of her siblings and her parents: They were placid and serene as they talked and ate, as if Lincoln wasn't sitting there next to Lucy, silently hating her. He hadn't looked at her, but she could feel it rolling off of him in waves, and it made her sick, because he meant so much to her and she couldn't take him constantly hating her guts. How long would this last, the active hatred? Surely not forever. A week? A month? Oh, God, a year? She didn't think she could stand another minute of it.

As soon as she possibly could, she excused herself, cleared her plate, and escaped to her room, where she felt safe and warm and everything smelled like Luan (or was that her imagination? Fuck it, it made her feel slightly better, so who cared?). Sitting on her bed, she drew her knees to her chest and threw her arms around them. She took a deep, wet breath and fought back tears. _Man, I fucked up. I fucked up_ so _bad._ She lost Lincoln forever, her little bro, and she was so lost and hurt and confused she couldn't tell which way was up and which way was down. She desperately wanted to talk to him, but she knew where that would get her...the same place their last talk got her...nowhere.

This was hell.

And after what she did to Lincoln...maybe she deserved it. Drunk or not, she should have known better, should have had more self-control. Jesus, he was eleven! She stole his innocence, his virginity, his childhood...and his heart. She didn't mean to, though! If she could take it all back she would in a heartbeat, she would wipe it all away and go back to the way things used to be, her happy little brother at her side.

She bowed her head and prayed to God. A miracle. A time machine. Something, _anything_ to make Lincoln stop hating her.

When someone spoke, she started.

Luan was standing in the doorway, one hand resting on the jamb.

Luna took a deep breath and tried to catch her racing heart.

"I didn't mean to scare you," Luan said, coming in and closing the door behind her. "I just wanted to...see how you're doing."

"Fine," Luna said quickly. "Why?"

Luan shrugged. "You seem...I don't know...kind of off."

Their eyes locked.

"Like something's bothering you."

Luna shook her head. "Nope. I'm fine."

Luan sighed and crossed the room; Luna's heart beat faster. She sat on the edge of the bed and crossed her legs, the hem of her skirt shifting along the top of her perfectly formed knee. "Luna," she said soberly, and Luna looked into her sister's wide, concerned eyes. "What's wrong?" She laid her hand on Luna's leg, and the older girl found herself telling her younger sister everything.

"I didn't mean for it to happen," she moaned miserably, hugging her knees tighter. "It just...did. I was really down."

Luan listened patiently, nodding where appropriate. When she was sure Luna was done, she asked, "Why...why don't you want to be with him? I mean, that's a weird question and all, but, I mean...?"

"Because I'm in love with someone else," Luna said.

She looked into Luan's questioning eyes, her heart pounding painfully. Before she could stop herself, she said, "You."

Luan's eyes widened and she looked quickly away. Luna's heart broke, and she could feel tears welling in her eyes. "I know it's messed up, and I'm sorry, but..."

Luan silenced her by turning, grabbing both side of Luna's face in her hands, and pressing her lips to her sister's. For the briefest of moments, Luna was stunned, then she opened her mouth and met Luan's tongue with the tip of her own, her arms wrapping themselves around her sister's neck and drawing her close. Luan fell into her, and their bodies melted together. Luna's loins ached, and when Luan's knee grazed between her legs, she gasped into her mouth.

"Oh, _cum_ on," Luan teased, slipping her hand up Luna's skirt. "I haven't even done anything...yet."

Her nimble fingers danced up Luna's warm inner thigh. Luna let out a long, low purr as Luan pushed aside her underwear and traced the outline of her lips. She kissed Luna's chin and the corner of her mouth as she parted her sister's folds and sank one finger into her dank pool. Luna's eyes fluttered to the back of her head and she bit her bottom lip. "I have an idea," she said.

"What's that?" Luan asked.

"Get naked," Luna grinned.

"Okay," Luan said. She took her hand out from between Luna's legs and began to unbutton her blouse, each one revealing a little more of the pale, creamy skin Luna had been dreaming of touching – and kissing – for so long.

Next she pulled her skirt down. She was wearing white panties with yellow smiley faces on them and a plain white bra. Luna licked her lips and reached up her own skirt, hooking her thumbs into her panties and pulling them down slowly, past her knees, along her claves, over her purple boots. Luan reached behind her back and unhooked her bra, letting her small, perky breasts fall free. Luna froze, her mouth falling open. The nipples were pink and erect, and the skin looked so soft and kissable.

"You like?" Luan giggled.

Luna nodded.

Luan leaned forward. "Good."

She got to her feet and pulled down her panties. Luna's head spun as her sister bared her pink, Y-shaped sex.

"How about _that?_ "

Luna tried to speak, but words would not form, so she nodded.

"So," she said, sitting down. "What do you have in mind?"

Luna licked her lips. "Have you ever heard of 69?"

* * *

Lucy slipped into Lincoln's room at half past midnight. She was wearing a black My Chemical Romance band T and short blue gym shorts. She held a shoebox under one arm.

Lincoln was reading a comic when she entered, and did not look up. She crossed to the nightstand, sat the box next to the alarm clock, and sat on the edge of the bed, drawing one leg under her and letting the other hang over the side. "Hey, Linc," she said after a moment.

"Hey," Lincoln replied, flipping a page. "Are they asleep?"

"Not yet," Lucy said. "They're...getting there."

When she looked through the vent over Luna's bed, she was mildly surprised to see her two older sisters in a sweaty, naked embrace, Luna playing big spoon and Luan playing little spoon, their fingers laced and Luna's face buried in Luan's hair. Stupid, nasty skanks. Did Luna feel one bit guilty? Probably not. Hateful bitch.

"Good," Lincoln said.

For a moment Lucy sat where she was, her hands on her knees. Then she reached out and laid her hand on Lincoln's stomach. "Do you want to have sex?"

An image of Luna on top of him, her breasts jiggling with each buck of her hips, came to him, and his stomach knotted in a strange and painful mixture of desire and rage. "No," he said.

"Oh," Lucy said, a hilt of disappointment in her voice. "Well...can I suck your dick?"

Lincoln thought for a moment. "Yeah. Sure."

Without another word, Lucy positioned herself between his legs, unzipped his jeans, and pulled them down, along with his underwear. He sprang out, and he heard her breath hitch. She was so fucking _desperate_. It pissed him off.

She took him in her mouth and began working his shaft as he flipped another page. He read four panels then closed his eyes as the sensation of her lips and tongue caressing him began to worm into his brain. He wondered if it would feel the same if it was Luna between his legs. He called up a vision of her face, and he throbbed. His heart raced.

And anger filled him.

He imagined wrapping his hands around her throat and watching the life drain from her eyes. Violent energy coursed through him, and before he could stop himself even if he wanted to, he wound his hand through Lucy's hair and yanked her head back. She let out a pleasured moan.

Grimacing angrily, he pushed her back down onto his dick and controlled the speed, using her hair as a type of rein. She coughed and gagged against him, but made no move to pull away. In fact, by her moans, he inferred that she was playing with herself.

In his mind, it was Luna. She was on her knees before him, totally at his mercy, her eyes filled with tears of remorse and her head bobbing as she sought forgiveness between his legs. With his free hand, he made a fist and smashed it against Lucy's skull. She cried out and went faster. He did it again, hitting her in the ear this time.

It wasn't enough. He yanked her head up and shoved her back. He was shaking now, his teeth bared and his chest pounding. He was so angry, and she was so small...so fragile...and he could see Luna in her.

"Take off your shorts," he commanded.

Lucy obeyed, and the power he felt in that instant was so heady he almost came. He got onto his knees and rose up, towering over her. He stripped his shirt off and tossed it aside. Her breath hitched and she ran her hands over his chest.

Flashing, he grabbed her arm and squeezed. Her face winced in pain. "Don't fucking touch me." He spun her around and pushed her face-first onto the bed. She lifted her bare ass, and he grabbed her hips, digging his nails into her soft flesh as hard as he could. She let out a long, shuddery moan. He shifted his hips, found her virginity, and took it with a hard thrust. She jerked and cried out, first throwing her head back and then forward, where she bit the cover. He pulled back and thrusted again. Her rippling walls clutched at him desperately, her muscles clamping down in a vain attempt to trap him. He ripped back and slammed forward, and again. She rocked her hips and backed herself into each of his thrusts. "Take it, Luna," he said, surging forward and pressing his body to hers, wanting, needing, to get deeper, to shred her hateful womb. "Take it, you bitch." Spittle flew from his mouth and landed on Lucy's arched back.

Taking one of his hands from her hips, he balled it and smashed it into her side. Her body clenched around him, and he yelled as his rage shot into her, filling her womb. She cried out into the bed and began to shake as her orgasm hit her.

When he was done, he pulled out, yanked up his pants and underwear, and laid back against his pillow, leaving Lucy face down on the cover, her back rapidly rising and falling and her body quivering. The look of her disgusted him, and he took a deep, angry breath as he picked up his comic and held it up, blocking out her pathetic sight. "Go do it," he said. "And don't leak on my bed."

* * *

A girl with black hair, flush in the afterglow of her first time, crawls through a dusty air duct connecting one room to another. She moves quiet, catlike. She reaches a grate opening out under a bed. She sets down the shoebox hitherto tucked protectively under her arm and removes a screwdriver from the pocket of her gym shorts. She hurriedly unscrews the four fasteners keeping the grate in place and removes it, taking great pains to make as little noise as possible. Taking the shoebox back up, she slips through and scoots along carpet on her stomach like a commando working his way through enemy territory. She reaches the edge of the bed and pokes her head out. She listens intently, and hears two soft sets of snoring. In the cold light of the harvest moon, she can see two of her sisters entwined under a thin sheet.

The girl bares her teeth. Her man, her master, was in love with one of those girls, and she hated her for it.

And she was going to kill her over it.

She crawls out from under the bed and, on her knees, moves over to the giant amplifier at the foot of Luna's bed. Using the screwdriver, she opens a section of the plastic casing and then removes the foil wrapped bomb from the shoebox. A song she liked when she was little comes to mind, and she sings it to herself as she sticks the device into the amp, making up her own words to fit the situation.

 _So you wanna tease_

 _So you wanna play_

 _I got something for you_

Straining, she moves the amp so that the fuse is facing away from the bed. The way she placed the bomb, the blast will gut the inside and push deadly shrapnel toward the two sleeping girls. She takes a white Bic from her pocket and flicks it.

 _Hot stuff, lighting it up_

 _The only message is you're gonna get burned_

She touches the flame to the fuse, and it catches, popping and hissing brightly.

Heart in throat, knowing she has less than a minute to flee, she shoves the lighter into her pocket along with the screwdriver and grabs the shoebox. She ducks under the bed and crawls as quickly as she can to the vent. With shaking hands, she puts it back into place and screws two of the fasteners back in. She leaves the other two.

She hurries along the vent, silently counting to herself.

 _Ten._

 _Eleven._

 _Twelve._

BOOM!

* * *

 **Songs referenced:**

 _ **Burning up the Night**_ **by Krokus (1986 – parody lyrics)**


	6. Kingdom Come

There is no feeling in the world like falling asleep next to the girl you love...after tiring yourself out making love to her. Lying on her side, Luan in her arms, Luna felt more drowsy than she ever had in her life, but she didn't want to sleep, because sleeping meant being away from her lover, and they had only just gotten together; Luna wanted to cherish every second.

Luan made a long _ummmm_ sound and bent her knees, running her toes along Luna's bare calves. Luna giggled and kissed Luan's shoulder. "That tickles," she said.

"I know," her sister replied smartly.

Luna drew her closer and nuzzled her neck. "Hey," Luan said, "that tickles, too!"

"Payback's a bitch, huh?" Luna asked.

" _You're_ a bitch," Luan shot back.

" _Your_ bitch."

Luan laughed. "How about we take turns being the bitch?"

"Hmmmm. Works for me."

Luan turned in Luna's arms and touched her face. Luna returned the favor, softly caressing her sister's cheek with the back of her hand and staring deeply into her big hazel eyes. An errant shaft of moonlight glinted on Luan's braces, and for some reason Luna found that _incredibly_ sexy.

"How long have you loved me?" Luan asked.

"A long time," Luna said. Her mind was filling with wisps of sleep, and she found it hard to think. "I always..." she blushed and looked down.

"What?" Luan asked, smiling.

"I always thought you were cute," Luna finally said, and met her sister's gaze again.

Luan's big eyes shimmered with love. "Would you believe I've always thought you were cute, too?"

Luna's heart bounced. "Really?"

Luan nodded. "Especially when you cut your hair short." Here she ran her fingers through Luna's hair. "I...I was afraid you'd think I was weird."

"I was afraid you would think I was a creep and you'd hate me and our relationship would be ruined." Her smile faltered. "Like mine and Lincoln's."

A look of pained sympathy crossed Luan's face. "Lune...he's in pain. It's not...I mean, he just needs time to get over it. Heartbreak doesn't heal overnight, but it does heal, and he's Lincoln. He'll come around because you're one of the most important things in his life."

Luna sighed. She wished she could believe that, but deep down she didn't.

Luan sensed this. She leaned forward and brushed her lips against her sister's. "Just imagine how upset you would have been if I turned you down. That's what he's feeling. It's not like he hates you, even if maybe he thinks he does. He loves you and he'll eventually realize that. He just needs time and space. And who knows, maybe he'll find someone else...like Lucy."

Luna blinked. "Lucy?"

"Oh, come on, haven't you seen the way she's been following him around? She looks like a little puppy dog. It's cute."

Luna remembered Lucy staring at her that morning at breakfast and sensing that she was angry at her too. Was...something happening there? The blossoming of young love? Luna found herself hoping so, and not for entirely selfless reasons: If Lincoln fell in love with Lucy, it would ease his pain and hopefully make him stop hating her. Then, things could go back to the way they were. Oh, they could even go on double dates together.

"I _have_ noticed a little something between them," Luna said.

"Just sit back and let things work themselves out."

Luna smiled. "You're right. I'm probably spazing over nothing."

"Yes you are," Luan said and kissed her sister.

Luan shortly fell asleep, but Luna fought to stay awake so she could look at her sister's beautiful face. Eventually, however, nature won out and she drifted into the darkness, her last thought before falling over the edge not really a thought at all but a sensation: Pure, unadulterated happiness.

For what may have been hours or minutes, Luna floated through a field of sunshine dreams, the scent of her sister surrounding her. At some point, the hiss of rain filled her head, and a storm broke, wetting her skin and her hair. The hiss was incessant, maddening. She frowned in her sleep and stirred as a shadow darted under Luan's bed.

 _Ssssssssssssssssssssssssss._

Luna swam up from the depths and opened one eye. She could hear the rain even now, as if –

BOOM!

* * *

Lucy reached her room just as Lynn tumbled out of bed and landed on the floor with a cry. She crawled out from under her bed and got to her feet as if she, too, had been thrown onto the floor. The fire alarm started going off, its shrill _beep-beep-beep_ filling the house. Lucy heard screaming and slamming doors. A wide smile spread across her face.

"What the fuck was _that?"_ Lynn cried, struggling to her feet. She raced to the door and threw it open. The overhead light was on, and thin smoke filled the hall. The odor was bitter and acrid, like burned plastic and fried wiring. Lynn went out into the hall ahead of Lori, whose sleepy face with wide with fear. Lucy paused at the doorway and watched as Dad threw Luna and Luan's door open. More smoke wafted out. Everyone was yelling and talking at once. Lilly was in Lisa's arms, crying and shaking in terror. Lincoln's door opened and he popped out. "What happened?" he yelled, and Lucy smiled. You dirty dog, you know what happened.

Lucy followed her sisters, pushing them aside to get to the head of the pack. When she reached the doorway, she was disappointed to not find body parts strewn across the room. Luan was sitting in the middle of the floor, weeping into her father's chest. Luna sat up in her bed, her eyes wide and a dozen tiny cuts crisscrossing her face. The amp stood at the foot of the bed, a giant, smoking hole blown through the face. No... _no!_

Lisa, having handed Lilly off, came into the room with a fire extinguisher while everyone else gathered around Luna and Luan, Lori and Leni sitting on Luna's bed and checking her for injuries. Lisa sprayed the amp while angrily muttering to herself. "These goddamn things explode all the time," she said, "I've been _waiting_ for something like this to happen."

Staring at the crater, Lucy sighed. Not exactly the hellfire and brimstone she was expecting. Maybe she should have used more sparklers.

To keep up appearances, she went over to Luan and knelt down. "Are you okay?"

"Everyone back off and give her some space," Dad said. Lucy caught sight of blood trickling down her older sister's face, and savage glee shot through her. _I hope it gets infected_.

Obeying her father, Lucy got up and backed up, bumping into someone. She turned, and looked up into Lincoln's concerned eyes. "W-What happened?"

He was a good actor.

"Luna's amplifier exploded," Lisa said. She pointed the nozzle of the extinguisher at the crater and filled it with foam. "Just like I knew it eventually would. These things are unsafe at _any_ decibel." She shook her head. "Where's Ralph Nader when you need him?"

"Is everyone okay?" he asked, looking around. "Luna?"

She held up her hand. She looked shell shocked, her eyes big and faraway. Her ears rang and her head swayed woozily.

"Luan?"

"I'm fine," she said. She had stopped crying and turned to face her siblings. She had fewer cuts on her face than Luna. Lucy counted a half dozen, each one oozing blood. The way everyone was acting, you'd think her whole face was blown off, and that made Lucy angry.

The alarm was still going off, and Mom, holding her robe closed at the throat, went to shut it off. After a few minutes, blessed silence filled the house.

"The chances of a fire are minimal," Lisa said, stretching her arms and yawning. "Unless anyone requires advanced medical care, I'm going back to bed."

"We're fine," Luna said from between Lori and Leni.

Lucy waited until Lisa was gone before leaving. She didn't want to be the first to go; that might look suspicious.

She hoped to God the can was broken up enough to be unrecognizable.

"Luce!" Lincoln called behind her, and Lucy winced. _I know,_ she thought miserably, _I failed you_. She didn't want to turn and face him, because the thought of seeing disappointment in his eyes made her stomach lurch. She did, however, and for a moment he simply looked at her with the same warm, caring expression he wore in Luna and Luan's room. For a second Lucy thought he would forgive her, but then his face darkened and his fist crashed into her jaw. Her head whipped around and her knees went out, dropping her to the carpet. She sat in a heap as he loomed over her, his fists balled. His eyes blazed.

"I'm sorry," Lucy whispered.

He took a deep breath, turned, and stormed away. For a moment Lucy stayed where she was, unsure of how to feel. She was ashamed that she failed her big brother, but she felt good because he punched her.

The lyrics of an old song she stumbled upon once and liked for the shock value came to mind.

 _He hit me  
_

 _And it felt like a kiss  
_

 _He hit me  
_

 _But it didn't hurt me._

The hit didn't hurt, but the look in his eyes did. _I screwed it up,_ she thought, and shook her head. She got up and went into her room, where she sat on her bed with her knees drawn up to her chest. She had to make this up to him; she didn't want him to think she didn't care about him like Luna. She did. She –

She loved him.

* * *

In his room, Lincoln Loud kicked the footboard and ripped an Ace Savvy poster off the wall. The stupid little bitch couldn't even make a fucking bomb right. The amp was _right there_. How in the hell could a piece of metal _not_ fly into Luna's head? Too weak. It was too weak. She might as well have saved herself the trouble and just stuck an actual sparkler in it.

Dropping onto the edge of his bed, he kicked his legs and tore at either side of his face with his fingernails. Goddamn it! Goddamn it! Goddamn it! Do I have to do _everything_ around here?

He took a deep breath and started plotting. Alright, what could he do? He wanted both Luna _and_ Luan. He would make it easy for Luna because he loved her, but he would make Luan suffer. Oh yes we would. She would die hard and _Loud,_ fucking get it? He'd take her apart piece by piece and make Luna watch. He might even make her eat some of her precious little girlfriend. An evil smile came to Lincoln's face as he imagined ramming a bloody piece of Luan hide into Luna's mouth.

Luna was the only one who knew what happened between them...aside from Lucy, of course, and probably Luan. It wasn't lost on Lincoln that they were both naked. Luan might have been on the floor, but he'd bet his bottom fucking dollar she and Luna were in the same bed with the bomb went off. No one would suspect poor widdle Wincoln of having a reason to want Luna and Luan dead then, so just as long as Lucy's stupid aerosol can blew up and wasn't hanging around like a flashing neon sign (ARSON! ARSON!), no one could prove shit. No one would _suspect_ shit. He'd have to act quick, though, because if Luna was suspicious, she might make trouble for him. God knows she enjoyed doing _that!_

Sitting back against his pillow, he wracked his brain for a plan. He came up with several, and rejected them all as too convoluted. Being convoluted is counterproductive. Sweet and simple is the way to go. Hmmmm. He could...

An idea struck him and he sat up. He investigated it from multiple angles, and couldn't find a weak spot. It wasn't a full plan, though, just the bare outline of one. He would need some place quiet and remote...a place where no one could hear two teenage girls scream. Where was there a place like that in Royal Woods? The industrial park? Yeah, that might work. The Great Recession of 2007-2009 hit Royal Woods especially hard (it was smack-dab in the middle of The Rust Belt, after all, and the local economy wasn't doing too hot even before), and a lot of factories and warehouses closed down. They were just sitting there alone and shuddered, huddled around a disused section of the Detroit-Toledo Railroad. Tall grass grew up along the tracks, tumbledown chain-link fences, piles of rubble, the works.

Yes. That would be the _perfect_ place for a double homicide.

And maybe a double rape, too.

* * *

Luna didn't know how this could have happened. Amps catch fire sometimes, but explode? It wasn't even being used! Sure, it was plugged in, but that shouldn't have made a difference.

Sitting up in her bed, too nervous to sleep, she went over the blast again and again. One minute she was floating on the edge of consciousness, a strange hissing noise in her ears, the next, a flat, concussive _boom_ filled the night, scaring the shit out of her. Hot pieces of metal and plastic sprayed her, ripping into the soft flesh of her face and right arm. Poor Luan jumped literally a foot, flying over Luna and landing on the floor. Luna's ears rang and for a few minutes she felt dazed, as if someone had punched her as hard as they could in the side of her head. Her family crowded around her and Luan, and for a good two or three minutes she was _gone_. Leni and Lori rushed to her side, both talking a mile a minute, but the ringing in her ears was too loud. _You are only coming through in waves,  
your lips move but I can't hear what you're saying_, she thought, but found no humor in it: She was cold and scared.

Slowly, sound bled back into the world and the fog in her mind dissipated like morning mist against the light of the sun.

"I don't know what happened," she muttered over and over again.

"Has it been acting funny lately?" Dad asked. Luan was sitting on her own bed, having recovered and put her nightgown on; when Luna realized her own breasts were exposed, she crossed her arms over them and blushed. No one said a word about their state of undress.

"No," Luna said, "it's been...fine."

Come to think of it, that wasn't entirely true. She _did_ notice some distortion the other day, but that cleared up on its own and she didn't hear it the last couple times she used it. She mentioned this, and her father nodded. "Could be a wiring issue."

"Sounds like it," Lana agreed. She, Lola, and Leni were the only siblings remaining, the rest having drifted back to their rooms.

"It sounded like The Station Night Club right after Great White took the stage," Lola said, crossing her arms. She was not happy about being awoken from her beauty sleep, but she was concerned about her sisters; she wasn't a _monster_ , after all.

"That wasn't an explosion, it was a fire," Lana corrected. "It sounded like The Unabomber paid them a visit."

"Yes," Lola said sarcastically, "because everyone knows The Unabomber sneaks into your room on the second Monday of every month and leaves you a bomb. Plus, he sent his bombs through the mail."

"Not _all_ of them."

"Girls..." Mom said. She was sitting next to Luan on the bed, her arm around her shoulder, "I think it's time you went to bed."

"But, Mom..." they said in unison.

"Now."

Sighing and rolling their eyes, they both said goodnight to Luna and Luan and went on their way. Their voices drifted back. "Actually, it sounded more like The Mad Bomber," Lana said.

"Yeah," Lola agreed, "he actually _planted_ bombs..."

" _So did The Unabomber!_ Sometimes..."

Mom sighed. "I want that thing on the curb," she nodded toward the amp. "God only knows if it might blow up again. We're lucky the house didn't catch fire."

Luna helped her father get the amp downstairs and out to the curb. The night was cold and silent. Luna was sad to see it go; that thing cost her almost a year's worth of allowance, Christmas money, and birthday cash.

After checking over their cuts one more time, Mom and Dad left, leaving Luna and Luan alone. Luna got up and slipped into her sister's bed, and they resumed cuddling.

"That was really scary," Luan said, and tittered nervously.

"You're telling me," Luna said. "We coulda been cut _all_ up."

"What happened?"

Luna sighed. "I don't know. I really don't. Like Dad said, it was probably a wiring issue. Still..."

Still something felt _wrong_. She couldn't say why, but she didn't think it was a wiring issue at all.

 _If it's not that, then what_ is _it?_

The Mad Bomber? His brother, The Slightly Miffed Bomber?

Of course not.

She couldn't fall asleep even after Luan dropped off, so she got up and went back to her own bed.

How could this have happened? Amps just don't blow like that, at least not in her experience. They sometimes "blew" if you turned them up too loud. She remembered reading somewhere that Angus Young's amp caught fire while AC/DC was recording "Let There Be Rock," but he was shredding like crazy. She was fucking _sleeping_.

It didn't make sense. She whipped out her phone and went to Google. She searched for nearly an hour, but could find no instance of an amp blowing in such spectacular fashion, not even while being used. She posted in a music forum she frequented explaining the situation and asking if anyone had ever had anything similar happen. A guy in Australia replied with a link to a video of a vintage amp blowing into a million pieces when someone plugged it into a wall socket, but hers was already plugged in. She pointed this out, and the guy came back saying that it had been known to happen, especially if there was a power surge. Luna didn't know if there had been or not, but the more she thought about it, the more it made sense. After all, it wasn't like The Slightly Miffed Bomber and the Unisexbomber teamed up to shove a pipe bomb into it. God, had it been an actual bomb, she and Luan would probably be dead right now.

That thought sent a shiver racing down her spine. It was bad enough seeing the cuts on her Luan's beautiful face (and knowing it was her fault), but thinking of her seriously injured...or worse...was...it was unthinkable.

* * *

Lucy was in misery. She lie awake most of the night, her eyes open and her fingers laced across her chest. In the next bed over, Lynn lightly snored...and occasionally snorted. The moon rode slowly across the inky sky, its light moving along the floor in a long, rectangular shaft, putting Lucy in mind of restless phantoms.

She failed him. Her beautiful Lincoln, her master, her big brother. She told him it would work and it didn't. She promised him those two scuzzy bitches would be dead, or at the very least in the hospital, yet there they were, alive and well in their room, probably rubbing their leaky vaginas together in celebration of not dying. She drew a deep, aching sigh. She should go into her closet, loop a belt over the rod, and hang herself. Let Lynn find her in the morning, her body twisting and her toes scraping the floor. No, scratch that. She should go do it in Luan and Luna's closet so that _they_ would have to be the ones to find her. She should cut her wrists too and bleed all over their things, so that they would either have to throw them out or be reminded of her every time they saw the stains.

If she really loved Lincoln, she would make another one of those bombs, fill the foil with tacks and screws, wait until Luna and Luan were asleep in the same bed, then go lay between them and light the fuse. Those two whores would die and she would give Lincoln the ultimate gift: Her complete and total sacrifice.

Sighing, she got up and went into the bathroom; using a step stool, she opened the medicine cabinet and slipped something from a package. In her room, she sat Indian style on her bed and rolled her sleeves up. The moon glinted on the cold edge of a razor, and the moon alone watched as she dragged it across her flesh.

 _Forgive me – ouch._

 _Forgive me – ouch._

 _Forgive me – ouch..._

* * *

 **Songs Referenced:**

 _ **He Hit Me (And It Felt Like a Kiss)**_ **by The Crystals (1962)**

 _ **Comfortably Numb**_ **by Pink Floyd (1979)**


	7. The Light of Day

**#TeamLuna**

 **#TeamLuan**

 **#TeamLincoln**

 **#TeamLucy**

 **What side are** _ **you**_ **on?**

* * *

Lincoln Loud made sure he was one of the first ones downstairs the next morning, that way there was no chance of him having to sit anywhere near Luna _or_ Lucy. He was still furious at the latter, but he needed her for the plan he was formulating, so he couldn't go _too_ hard on her; if she absolutely _insisted_ on sitting next to him, he would let her, even though it would take everything he had not to slap the piss out of her.

He poured himself a bowl of Lucky Charms and went into the dining room, where he sat at the end of the table. Lori was sitting at the opposite end, texting and sipping a cup of coffee. Literally all she did was text. What kind of life is _that?_ No accomplishments, no creative outlets, nothing but staring at a screen from the moment you wake up to the moment you go to sleep. How did _that_ feel? Just knowing that you did nothing that day? Talk about basic bitch. At least Leni had her stupid designs and Luan had her bullshit unfunny comedy. Lori had nothing.

She might as well be dead.

Lincoln was just digging into his breakfast when the twins came in. Oh joy. Did they do anything but argue?

"It's really annoying?" Lana said to Lola, whose arms were crossed.

"What's annoying?" Lori asked.

 _Because I'm just_ dying _to find out,_ Lincoln thought.

"Lola," Lana said, "she dresses like a fairy princess every day. She looks like a dweeb."

"Hmph. At least _I_ don't look like a transsexual Dennis the Menace."

Lana spun on her sister. "No, you look like JonBenét Ramsey, and I hope you wind up like her, too."

Lola shoved her face in Lana's. "You look like Gordon Ramsey, only softer and less-threatening."

Luna came in and got between them. "Whoa, dudes. If you wanna throw down you gotta have your breakfast first. No battle royales on an empty stomach."

Lincoln couldn't help but study the shallow cuts on her cheeks and forehead. A perverse pride ballooned within him. I _did that_ , he thought, slurping a spoonful of cereal. _How did it feel, Luna? Were you scared? Did you think you were going to die?_ He grinned down into his bowl as he remembered the dazed look in her eyes when he went into her room last night. And the blood...she had never been more beautiful than she was in that moment; fighting back the resultant erection was the hardest thing he had ever done. No pun intended. He fucking _hated_ puns.

And speaking of puns, there she was, his competition, skipping into the dining room just as Lola, Lana, and Luna disappeared into the kitchen, her knobby knees showing, her ponytail bouncing, her braced overbite lending her the appearance of Norbert from _The Angry Beavers_. A light he recognized all too well twinkled in her eyes; he looked like that after he slept with Luna, too.

Dark hatred bubbled up in his chest, and his grip tightened on the spoon. She must have sensed it, because she greeted him specifically. "Hey, Linc!"

Heat crept up the back of Lincoln's neck. "Hey," he said tightly. "How you feeling?"

"Okay," she said. "Scared the shit out of me, though."

"Me too," he said, "and I wasn't right next to it."

"I _literally_ thought the house blew up," Lori said.

 _If only,_ Lincoln sighed. He spent a good couple hours this morning mildly worried that they would find the can and the foil, but when he came down earlier, he saw the amp sitting on the curb, and no one said anything, so he figured he was in the clear. He'd make Lucy take the blame if it came to it. He was sure she would, and gladly. _Little girls in love do stupid things,_ he thought now and grimaced.

"I can't count how many times I've gone through the dangers of electric amplifiers," Lisa said, coming in. "They blow up with astounding frequency."

Lincoln went back to his cereal and tried his best to drown out the chatter of his stupid sisters. He didn't notice Lucy until she dropped into the chair next to him; in his periphery, her face was wan and drawn. Then again, wasn't it always?

He drew a deep breath. _You're really fucking stupid, you know that?_

When she laid her hand on his leg, he went rigid. He looked down, intending to snatch it up, bend one of her fingers back, and then shove it away, but what he saw gave him pause. Her palm was facing up, her sleeve pushed back to reveal a dozen ugly, jagged slashes across her milky flesh. They were red, rimmed with pink, and crusted with blood. A folded piece of paper was in her upturned palm. He glanced at her, his brows furrowing, but she didn't meet his gaze.

He plucked the paper out and opened it. It was covered with sloppy paragraphs, a break between each one:

 _Meat-eating orchids forgive no one just yet  
Cut myself on angel hair and baby's breath  
Broken hymen of your Highness, I'm left back  
Throw down your umbilical noose so I can climb right back_

What the _fuck?_

 _I'm a loser baby so why don't you kill me?_

 _I'm so sorry, Lincoln. Sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry I thought it would work but it didn't and its my fault and I failed you and I'm so sorry please forgive me. I cut myself all night to show you how sorry I am I don't deserve you you're too good for me. You can kill me if you want. I deserve it._

Lincoln turned to face her full on. Her head was bowed; silent tears fell from her face and landed on her blouse. _You crazy fucking bitch,_ he thought.

He needed her, though.

Unfortunately.

Taking a deep breath, he turned away and slipped his arm around her shoulders, his mouth twisting distastefully. She sank into him and her tears leaked through his shirt. Ugh. Everyone was looking at him, but he ignored them.

"Luan, you wanna hear a joke?" Lola asked.

"Sure," Luan said.

"How did they know Christa McAuliffe had dandruff?"

Luan made a long _hmmmmm_ sound, and Lincoln could imagine her touching her chin with her index finger and looking at the ceiling like a goddamn doofus. "I don't know."

"They found her head and shoulders on the beach."

Lana barked mean-spirited laughter.

"That's the _meanest_ joke I've ever heard," Luan said seriously. "It's not funny."

"Hey, Luan, have you ever tried Ethiopian food?" Lana asked. "Neither have they."

Lola chuckled. "Good one."

"Seriously, you guys have problems," Lori said and got up.

"Why do Jewish men like to watch porno movies backwards?" Lola asked. "They like the part where the hooker gives the money back."

Lisa snorted laughter.

"That was really racist, dude," Luna said absently.

" _I_ thought it was funny," Lana said.

"It _was_ mildly humorous," Lisa said. "Purely for the shock value, of course."

Lincoln sighed and rolled his eyes to the ceiling. It was like this _every_ morning...every...single...fucking...morning. Don't these dumb fucks ever get tired of the monotony?

When Lincoln was finished with his cereal, he got up and put his bowl in the sink. In the living room, he shrugged into his backpack. He waited for Lucy, then nodded toward the door. She nodded and grabbed her things. Outside, they walked together.

"I have a plan," Lincoln said.

"What is it?" she asked.

He told her, and she listened intently, facing forward and nodding. "Do you think you can do that, or are you gonna fuck it up like you fucked up the bomb?"

"I won't fuck it up," Lucy said, and turned to him. "I _promise_."

Lincoln nodded. "Good. We'll do it tomorrow."

* * *

Luna was consumed with thoughts that made her ashamed of herself. Sitting in history class, she thought back to that morning...to the hard look in Lincoln's eyes, to the way he pointedly ignored her and the rest of his siblings while he held a visibly upset Lucy. On the walk to school, Lynn said, "I don't know what it is with those two, but it's kind of strange."

"I don't know," Luna said, but she thought she did; like Luan said, there was something going on between them. That fact alone did not bother her, what bothered her was this: Why was Lucy so upset...and why was Luna beginning to suspect Lincoln of trying to kill her?

All of the people on the board where she posted said that an amp shouldn't explode like that. On her way out the door that morning, she went to it and looked it over. On one side, the screws were missing, and there were burn marks on the plastic casing where by all rights there shouldn't have been any. She pictured a fuse sticking out and burning down _ssssssssssssssssss_ until it reached...whatever...and BOOM!

That was crazy, though. Lincoln wouldn't do that. Sure, he was pissed off and heartbroken, but trying to _kill_ her? Come on! He was Lincoln, that thought probably never even crossed his mind. And why would it? Only complete psychopaths try and kill people for breaking their heart, and her brother was _not_ a complete psychopath. He was kind and sensitive and caring. Sure, he was mad as hell and hurting, but that didn't mean anything. Luna herself had been heartbroken before, and mad, and hurt, but she never tried to kill anyone. Hell, she never even _considered_ killing someone. To accuse Lincoln of doing something like that, even to herself, was really unfair and fucked up.

Still, deep in the pit of her soul, she wondered. _Could_ he be mad and rash enough to do something? He was human, and sometimes, even the best of humans lose it under pressure. It wouldn't be very hard for him to sneak into the room while she and Luan were asleep, unscrew the bolts holding the amp together, and stick a crude homemade bomb in...

Or maybe it was Lucy. Luna _did_ get the impression that Lucy was angry with her, and from the way she clung to Lincoln, how much of a stretch would it be for Lucy to try and get back at her for hurting him?

 _God, listen to me! Accusing my siblings of trying to kill me! You're more paranoid than Rockwell taking a shower, girl._

Maybe she was. Hell, her amp _did_ mysteriously explode in the middle of the night. How can you not be paranoid after _that?_

Still, the deep dread in the pit of her stomach remained, and at the end of the day, she walked home alone through the chilly autumn afternoon. When she got home, Lori was sitting Indian style in the armchair and texting, Leni was painting her nails on the couch (a big no-no...Mom must not be home), and Dad was getting dinner ready in the kitchen. She wondered with a twist of the heart if Lincoln was around, then felt bad. He was her brother, not an ax murderer. Get a grip!

Upstairs, she went into her room and unconsciously shut the door...something she rarely did unless she needed complete privacy. She went over to her bed, sank down, and lay in the gloom, her mind racing and her heart thudding. Luan would be home soon, and that made her smile weakly. She would feel a million times better with Luan around; the paranoia would melt away and she'd start thinking straight again.

* * *

In the dark of the night, a little girl with black hair slips out a sliding glass door and crosses a backyard. She pauses at a shed, looks around, and goes inside. Using an LED pocket flashlight, she searches for the things her brother told her to get. When she finds them, she shoves them into a black duffle bag: Duct tape, rope, pliers, a hammer, and a can of lighter fluid. She checks and double-checks the list she had made as he talked. She has everything. Good.

She would not fail him this time.

She would make him proud of her.

And she would make him love her...not their sister.

Throwing the bag over her shoulder, she slips out of the shed and hurries back to the house. In the kitchen, she pauses and listens, but hears nothing. On her tippy-toes like a cartoon burglar, she creeps over to a drawer and opens it, taking the two biggest knives. One for her brother, and one for herself.

She thinks of what they will use these knives for, and her heartbeat quickens excitedly. Maybe after they're finished, they can have sex and cover each other in their siblings' blood.

Lucy likes that idea.

She likes it _a lot._

* * *

 **Songs Referenced:**

 _ **Heart-Shaped Box**_ **by Nirvana (1993)**

 _ **Loser**_ **by Beck (1994)**


	8. No More Tears

**Thank you, everyone, for your kind words. I'm glad you're enjoying the story. This is the second-to-last chapter. Things get serious starting now.**

* * *

Lincoln Loud was smiling when he woke the next morning. For the first time since Luna rejected him, he felt good...better than good, he felt _great_. Jumping out of bed, he whistled a light tune as he selected an orange polo shirt from his closet. As he pulled it on, he began to sing:

" _As we live a life of ease...a life of ease!  
_

 _Every one of us...every one of us!...has all we need...has all we need!  
_

 _Sky of blue...sky of blue!...and sea of green...sea of green!  
_

 _In our yellow...in our yellow!...submarine!"_

He yanked on his pants and then sat on the edge of the bed with his shoes. Done, he reached over, opened the nightstand drawer, and grabbed the butcher knife Lucy stole for him. He turned it over in his hand, admiring his reflection in the cold, steely blade. " _We all live in a yellow submarine...yellow submarine..."_ he sang to himself. " _Thirteen people...thirteen people!...soon to eleven...soon to be eleven! Luna and Luan...will be gone for good...gone for good!"_ He threw his head back and laughed. He couldn't _wait_ for what was coming. Just eight or nine short hours, and those two assholes would be sorry...so, so, so sorry. _You think you can just swoop in and steal my Luna, huh, Luan? Well, you got another thing coming, bitch._

Standing, he tucked the knife into the band of his jeans and covered it with the tail of his shirt. In the hall, Lynn, Luan, Leni, and Lucy were waiting in line for the bathroom. _There she is,_ Lincoln thought happily, _my little partner in crime._

He came up behind her and put his arms around her shoulders, pulling her back and kissing the top of her head. For a moment she was stiff, then she sank back into him and let out a throaty giggle. "Good morning," she said.

"Morning, Luce, beautiful day, isn't it?"

Lynn was looking at him strangely, and he just beamed at her. "Morning, Lynn."

She cocked an eyebrow. "What's wrong with _you?"_

He shrugged his shoulders. "Nothing, I'm just happy."

"That's good," Luan said. "You were kind of down there for a little while."

"Yeah, well, the old Lincoln's back. Do you need me to go out of my way and do anything for you? Lynn, you want a piggyback ride to school? Leni, you need someone to clean up after your messes?"

Lynn shook her head and rolled her eyes. She turned and crossed her arms. Leni looked confused. "Uh...no, thank you."

"Luce?" he asked, putting his hand on his sister's shoulder. "Did you flush another Princess Pony comic down the toilet that I need to take the blame for?"

Lucy coughed, and Lynn turned. "That was _you?"_ she asked.

Lucy trembled under Lincoln's hand, and a predatory smile slashed across his face. "Yeah, it was Lucy. She was afraid you guys were going to make fun of her."

Lynn laughed cruelly. "Wow. You know, I kinda figured Linc was taking the heat for someone, but _you?"_

Shaking her head, Lucy sighed. "I like it, okay?"

"Eh," Luan shrugged. "It's not _that_ bad, though definitely not your style."

"Pony princess lover!" Lynn cried, pointing her finger at Lucy and beginning to dance from one foot to the other. "Pony princess lover! Pony princess lover!"

For some reason, Lincoln's mood suddenly darkened. "Why don't you shut the fuck up, Lynn? This is exactly why I took the heat in the first place."

Lynn stopped dancing and fixed him with a dangerous glare. "You wanna take something else?" She lifted her fist.

Lincoln stepped forward, but Luan got in between them. "Knock it off!" she said, pushing Lincoln back with one hand and Lynn back with the other. "Lynn, don't be an asshole. Let Lucy like what she wants. Lincoln, put the attitude away."

Lincoln's hand crept to the small of his back. The blade was cool against his skin. He stroked the handle. _Not now...Lynn isn't worth it._

Pulling away, Lynn turned and crossed her arms. "Buck-tooth better watch himself."

"I'm right here, bitch."

She spun and threw herself at him, but Luan grabbed her. "Knock it off _now!_ Both of you!"

Rage welled in Lincoln. "I don't need this shit," he said and turned. "I'm out."

Downstairs, he went into the kitchen. Lori was sitting in the same spot drinking the same cup of coffee and texting the same message she had been yesterday, or so Lincoln imagined. "What was all that yelling about?" she asked without looking up.

"Lynn was picking on Lucy," he said.

"Ah. Another day in the Loud house."

"Yup."

In the kitchen, he crossed to the pantry and opened the door. He started reaching for a box of cereal, but stopped and swiped one of Lynn's sports bars instead. They tasted like cardboard, but fuck Lynn. He tore the wrapper off, threw it into the trash, and took a big bite out of it. One less for you, ass-breath.

Back in the living room, he grabbed his backpack and dropped into the armchair. As soon as Lucy came down the stairs, they were leaving. He wanted to go over the plan with her one more time; the last thing he needed was for her to botch it. He took a deep breath, threw his head back, and tried to find the happiness he woke up with. He pictured the pain and terror in Luna and Luan's eyes, and...ah, there it is. We all live in a yellow submarine...yellow submarine...yellow submarine. Maybe when this was over he and Lucy could go after Lynn next. She wouldn't be hard to lure into a dark place; just roll a ball and she'd chase it like a dog, her tongue hanging out and her eyes wide with stupidity. He saw himself looping a leash around her neck and making her grovel naked in the dirt. Sit up, lay down, roll over, go pee...he bit his bottom lip and crossed his legs against the erection growing between them.

There was no reason they couldn't do it again...and again...and again. Maybe Ronnie Anne would come after Lynn. She was a controlling little bitch...see how _she_ likes being controlled.

Lynn came down the stairs sounding like a herd of elephants and shot him a dirty look. He crossed his arms and smirked at her. Next came Luan, whose expression was...what's the word? Puzzled? Let's go with that. She looked puzzled. Poor little Luan, she had _no_ idea what was coming to her today. Her head and heart were filled with Luna...but little did she know they would both be dead before sundown.

When Lucy appeared on the stairs, he got up and grabbed his coat. "Come on, Luce," he said, "we're going."

"Okay."

She got her own coat from the rack and shrugged into it. Outside the day was overcast and windy; leaves blew through the air like embers from a fire. At the bottom of the steps, she shivered, and Lincoln slipped his arm around her shoulder, pulling her possessively close. She melted against him, and he smiled. She was his, and would be forevermore. "You know what you have to do, right?" he asked, looking down at her with intense eyes.

She nodded. She went through her tasks for the day, and Lincoln nodded, satisfied that she did indeed know what he expected of her. "Be careful when you put her in the back. I don't want anyone seeing anything. If we get busted, Lucy, I swear to God I'll strangle you."

"I'll take the blame," she said. "They'll never know you were involved."

"You're right," he said, "you _will_."

She stopped and clawed at his shirt. "I would do _anything_ for you, Lincoln."

Lincoln grinned and wrapped his arms around her. "I know you would."

"My life for you," she whispered, snuggling her face into his chest.

"That's my girl," Lincoln said, "that's my girl."

* * *

"So what _was_ that about?" Luna asked.

She and Luan were slowly making their way toward Royal Woods Middle. The high school was a mile past it, beyond a wide stand of forest. Lynn walked on ahead, her thumbs hooked through the straps of her gym bag and her ponytail bobbing determinedly. Whether she was walking toward a huddle on the football field or across the kitchen to get a snack, she always walked with a purpose. She was on a woman on a perpetual mission: To succeed and be the best at everything.

"I don't know," Luan said, a confused hilt to her voice. "Lincoln was acting really happy, then he got all sarcastic and asked if we needed him to 'go out of my way' to do something for us. He told everyone that Princess Pony comic book that got clogged in the toilet a while back was Lucy's and he took the blame. Lucy agreed, and when Lynn started making fun of her he got pissed."

Luna's brow furrowed. That sounded...odd. Sure, she could get him being mad at Lynn for making fun of Lucy, since she was his little girlfriend now, but he's the one who said something in the first place. Didn't make much sense. She said as much to Luan, and she shrugged. "Mood swings, I guess," she said.

Sighing, Luna took her sister's hand and threaded her fingers through hers. "Mood swings are good, I guess. I mean, he's not just angry all the time. That's progress, right?"

"Yeah," Luan said, "it _is_ a good thing. Just as long as he doesn't get into any fistfights will Lynn."

Luna chuckled. "She'd mop the floor with him."

"Uhhh, I don't know. I think angry Lincoln could take her. It'd probably be a draw, but that's not bad considering Lynn's Miss Sports and he's...uh...I dunno...Mr. Comic Books?"

"Yeah." Luna sighed. "I just hope Lucy can help pull him out of this funk."

"She's making headway if he's happy for a couple minutes. By this time next month he'll be able to go half the day with a smile."

For a while they walked in silence. The sky was a dull iron gray color and the wind was chilly. The trees along the sidewalk swayed back and forth, shedding leaves of red and gold. They passed a few houses where harvest decorations had been put up. Here a bale of hay of either side of porch stairs, topped by bright orange pumpkins; there a happy scarecrow hanging from a front door. Luna had always liked autumn; something about the blazing colors, the smell of burning leaves, and the crisp chill in the air touched the poet within. Though most of her older siblings didn't like going pumpkin picking and to corn mazes (or at least pretended they didn't), Luna loved it. She also liked hot apple cider and jumping into piles of leaves. In fact, that sounded like it would really hit the spot right about now...provided Luan did it with her, of course.

"You know much I like fall?" Luna finally said as the middle school appeared up ahead.

"How much?" Luan asked.

"Almost as much as I like you." They looked at each other, and Luan blushed. "We should find some leaves to jump in after school."

"That might be fun," Luan said. " _Leave_ it to you to be a big kid at heart."

"And to _fall_ for you."

Luan laughed. "Hey, you're not half bad. With a little work you might be as funny as me one day. Got anymore?"

Luna thought for a moment then shook her head. "Nah, I'm fresh out."

"Yeah, I can't think of any either."

At the stone walkway leading up to the big double doors, they held hands and stared into each other's eyes. Every time she looked at her sister, Luna's heart raced. _How did I get so lucky?_ she thought. Having Luan was like a dream come true; for the longest time she had wanted it more than anything else. Hell, she wanted to be Luan's lover more than she even wanted to be a rock star. Music was nothing compared to the beautiful girl before her.

They could have stayed like that all day.

"Have a good day," Luan said, and leaned in. Luna wrapped her arms around her sister and rubbed her back. She playfully swatted Luan's ponytail, and Luan giggled. "Hey. It took me all morning to get that just right."

"Okay, Lola," Luna said, and they both laughed.

Luna released her sister and she pulled back. A gust of wind swept a strand of hair across Luan's forehead, and she tucked it behind her ear. Such a simple gesture, but she made it beautiful. Emotion overcame Luna. "I love you," she said.

Luan smiled. "I love you too."

They leaned in, the tips of their noses brushing, and kissed, their lips pressing lightly together and their tongues meeting. Luna's heart crashed wildly in her chest and blood roared in her temples. Luan pulled away and smiled. "Have a good day."

"You too."

All the way to school, Luna walked on clouds. Being young and in love is such a beautiful feeling...

* * *

Lucy sat perched on the edge of her seat, her body tense and her eyes focused on the clock above the chalkboard. She was unconsciously biting her lower lip.

It was 2:58. In two minutes the bell would ring and the school day would be over. Time was tight: She had to race home and intercept Luan ASAP and then hurry to the building Lincoln told her about at the industrial park _before_ he and Luna got there, which meant she had to be quick.

When the bell rang, she shot out of her seat and streaked to the door, knocking some little bimbo with blonde hair out of the way. Kids were already streaming into the halls, and Lucy ducked, dodged, and pushed her way to the front doors, feeling proud of herself. _You're not the only one who can do that, Lynn,_ she thought as she hurried down the front stairs. She darted across the street ahead of a lumbering school bus (which honked its horn at her) and hit the sidewalk with both feet. _It's almost party time,_ she thought with a grin. _Do you wanna party? It's party time! We gotta party! It's party time!_ she giggled.

At the corner of Schoolhouse Road and Hoffman Avenue, she left the sidewalk and hurried along the westernmost edge of Washington Park. A trail led through a stand of trees, and she ran its length, at one point leaping over a fallen tree. She was sweating and her breath was short, a hot stitch in her side, but she didn't stop, didn't slow. She wasn't going to let Lincoln down this time. She was going to make him so proud of her...so proud he would make love to her...and maybe even hit her again.

She thrilled at the thought of having that bitch Luna gone. _He'll be mine. All mine._ As long as she was hanging around, Lincoln's heart (and head) would be with her and not Lucy, and Lucy couldn't have that. She'd already given him her submission and her virginity, and she fully intended to be with him forever.

She got home ten minutes after leaving school, not slowing until she got to the porch, taking the steps two at a time. She leaned against the door for a moment, winded, then pulled out her key and unlocked it. Mom and Dad were both still at work and Lilly was at the daycare. She was alone.

After grabbing a Sunny D from the fridge, she went into the garage and grabbed her bike. She set the kickstand, then went over to the workbench, from under which she pulled a green plastic wagon with side rails painted to look like wood. She pulled it over to the bike, knelt, and attached the metal hitch. She then went back to the bench and grabbed the blue tarp she'd sat next to it the day before. She pulled out the Swiss Army knife she always carried in her pocket, cut the twine binding it, and unfolded it. Next, she went up to her room and grabbed the duffle bag. She hurried transferred everything inside to her backpack; it all fit, but she couldn't close the zipper all the way.

She kept one thing out.

A hammer.

She went back downstairs and sat the backpack next to the wagon. In the living room, she stood by the front window, the curtain pulled by and her eyes scanning the street. What if she didn't show? What if something went wrong and she let Lincoln down again?

When Luan appeared up the street, Lucy's heart bounced. Lynn had practice, so she should be alone. Was she alone? Lucy didn't see anyone else, but that didn't mean they weren't lagging behind.

Luan was taking her sweet ass time. _Hurry up before Lori and Leni get home!_

When Luan was close, Lucy went over to the couch and sat down. A few seconds later, the door opened and Luan came in. "Hey, Luce," she said.

"Hey," Lucy said, getting up. "I'm glad you're here. I need your help with something."

Luan took her backpack off and hung it from the hook by the door. "Alright. What's up?"

"It's my bike."

Lucy was not as nervous as she thought she would be as she led Luan into the garage and shut the door. She left the hammer lying on top a stack of boxes. "The tire's messed up," she said as she picked it up.

"Oh," Luan said, her back to Lucy. "I'm not a mechanical genius." She put her hands on her hips. "But..."

Baring her teeth, Lucy struck, raising the hammer and bringing it down as hard as she could. It struck the back of Luan's neck and, with a sharp cry, she fell forward, her body going limp. For a moment Lucy stood over her to make sure she was actually unconscious. She'd never hit anyone like that before, but she'd read that hitting someone on the back of the neck would knock them out. She'd also read that a well-built sparkler bomb could cause enough damage to kill people if placed into something like an amplifier, and we all know how _that_ turned out.

 _I hope I didn't kill her._

She knelt down and pressed the tips of her fore-and-middle fingers against Luan's throat, grazing her skin until she found her pulse. It was strong but erratic. Well...she _did_ just catch a hammer to the neck.

Lucy grinned. "That was wicked."

She took the duct tape out of the backpack, tore off a length, and bound Luan's hands behind her back. She then did the same to her ankles, and finished off with a strip across her mouth, making sure to leave her nostrils clear. She didn't care if Luan died right now, but Lincoln wouldn't be happy. At all. He had things in mind for Luan, and if she was a good girl, maybe he would let her help.

Picking Luan up and putting her into the wagon was harder than she thought it would be.

Of course, as Lucy suspected, her legs hung over the edge, but she bent her knees and forced them in. She thought she heard a crack, and Luan stirred. Oops. Sorry, Lu.

Taking the tarp in her hands, Lucy covered her sister, tucking the edges underneath her body. She hit the button that opened the garage door, waited for it to roll up, then hopped onto the bike and started to pedal.

* * *

Luna was surprised (no...she was shocked) when she saw Lincoln standing at the end of the walkway to the street, his hands in his pockets and his head bent. For some strange reason, a rush of fear went through her, and she briefly considered running back inside. Then he looked up, and she saw the torment in his eyes; her fear melted. "Hey, bro," she said when she walked up.

"Hey," he said. "I-I was hoping we could talk."

Luna blinked.

"I know I've been kind of...an asshole lately. I just..." he took a deep breath. "I want things to be okay between us."

Tentative happiness filled Luna. She put her arm around his shoulder. "So do I. I miss you, man."

He smiled. "I miss you too. Come on, let's take a walk."

They started down the sidewalk. She had no idea how long this would take, but she wouldn't rush it. Getting her brother back was what she wanted most right now. She pulled out her phone and texted Luan, telling her that she was with Lincoln and that she would be home later.

"So," he said as they crossed the street, "I-I realize what happened with us was...you know...a mistake."

"Linc," Luna said, "I love you. You're the most important man in my life. What happened shouldn't have happened because I was already in love with Luan and I couldn't...you know...give you my heart. I was just...you know...weak, and I should have controlled myself. It doesn't have anything to do with you...it's me."

Lincoln was nodding. "I get it. I kind of took it personal but I've been thinking a lot about it and I put myself in your shoes. I..." he trailed off and looked away.

Luna didn't push him. If he had something to say, and _wanted_ to say it, he would.

"...I still love you," he said finally. "Like...that. I can't help it. Despite everything, I still love you." He uttered a harsh laugh gave Luna pause. "I'm just stupid, I guess."

"No, you're not," she said. "I'm the stupid one." She paused and collected her thoughts. "You know, I was...I was really scared our relationship was ruined." Tears came to her eyes and she blinked them back. She looked down at his upturned face and thought back to all the pain she'd felt over the past weeks, all the fear and uncertainty. She wasn't lying when she said Lincoln was the most important man in her life, he was, more so even than her father. Lincoln was always there for her, always ready and willing to help her in any way he possibly could. He was so kind and loving and caring...he was perfect. If she wasn't in love with Luan, she decided in that moment, she would be with him...she would be with him and she would be happy about it, because he was perfect.

"I was really afraid of losing you, Lincoln," she said. More tears came.

He looked away. "I'm sorry I made you feel like that." He wiped his eye. "I didn't mean to. I was just upset. I guess I was being selfish."

"You're anything _but_ selfish, bro," she said. "You're the least selfish person I know."

He smiled. "Thanks. I don't feel like it, though. I've been a huge jerk lately."

"Hey, man, it happens."

For a while they walked in silence. At the corner of Schoolhouse Road and Rosedale Street, Lincoln's phone buzzed and he pulled it out of his pocket. He opened it, read the screen, then put it away. "Do you mind if we make a quick stop before we go home?" he asked, looking up at her. "I need to meet Clyde real quick."

"Sure," she said. She didn't care how many stops he wanted to make. As soon as they got home, their special bonding time would be over. The longer they were out and about, the farther they could stretch it.

"I've noticed you and Lucy getting pretty close," she commented after a while. They were walking along Kingston Street, which runs along a wide strip of forest, a good portion of which was taken up by the industrial park and the railyard.

Lincoln shrugged one shoulder. "Kind of. She's been...helping me."

"That's good. Is there...like...any chance of you guys...being together?"

"Maybe," he said. He pulled away from her and gestured across the street. A dirt path lead into the woods. "Over there."

"What's he doing back there?" she asked as they crossed the street.

"Well, he's not back there. It's a short cut."

The path was narrow and overgrown in places. It terminated at a parking lot; tall grass grew wild through a thousand cracks. Lincoln led her across the parking lot and through a hole in a chain-link fence. Beyond was a thin stand of trees and then another parking lot, this one headed by a double wide trailer. A sign proclaimed it as the MANAGING OFFICE of some unknown and long defunct firm.

"Uh, I don't know if we should be –"

Her words cut off when something hard smashed into the back of her head. Red pain exploded in her skull, and her legs went weak. She dropped to her knees, and then, with another blast of pain, darkness stole over her.

Lincoln stood over her, a bloody rock in his hand. He was panting, taking deep, shoulder shaking breaths. His eyes burned with madness and his mouth was a tiny slash. When he saw Lucy poking her head out of the trailer's front door, he waved her over.

* * *

 **Songs Referenced:**

 _ **No More Tears**_ **by Ozzy Osbourne (1991 – title only)**

 _ **Yellow Submarine**_ **by The Beatles (1966)**

 _ **Partytime**_ **by 45 Grave (1983)**


	9. Living the American Dream

She drifted on dark tides, her mind and body floating phantom-like through the void. Bursts of sounds and colors rent the night, and she swam deeper into the warm embrace of unconsciousness.

When dawn slowly began to crest, the first thing she was aware of was _pain_ : Hot, throbbing pain. A moan escaped her lips and a shudder ran through her body; the pain intensified, and the white, tentative morning light faded before strengthening. It was blurry, as if glimpsed through a sheen of tears, and confusion shot through her muddled brain. Where was she? Who was she? _Why_ was she? She tried to sit up, but couldn't. The pain in her head pounded with every beat of her heart, and her stomach clenched with nausea. What happened?

She blinked her eyes, and the scene swam into focus. She was lying on her side, her cheek buried in thick shag carpeting. Ten feet in front of her was a faux-wood paneled wall. A girl with black hair, her eyes hidden by her bangs, sat Indian-style against it, her hands resting in her lap.

 _Lucy_.

Luna opened her mouth to speak, but realized something was covering it. She tried to move her lips, but the tape was fast adhered to them. Panic welled within her, and she went to move her arms, but her hands were bound behind her back.

Terrified now, she let out a muffled scream and thrashed against her bindings. Lucy got onto her hands and knees and crawled over, her mouth a straight, emotionless line. Had Luna been capable of intelligent assumption, she would have believed Lucy was coming to free her. Instead, she snatched a handful of Luna's hair and yanked. Luna winced, tears springing to her eyes. _"Lincoln's_ mine _,"_ Lucy growled.

Luna's eyes widened.

"Lucy, get the fuck away from her."

Luna jerked her head as Lincoln came into the room, his eyes dark and his lips arranged in a twisted smile. Lucy drew away, and Lincoln knelt. He reached out his hand, but Luna shied away. "There you are, sleepyhead," he leered, snatching the front of Luna's shirt and drawing her close.

What was happening? She didn't understand.

"You took one hell of a hit to the head," Lincoln said, running his fingers through her hair. When they brushed the tender, bloody point of impact, she jerked and hissed against the tape. "Well," Lincoln shrugged one shoulder, " _two_ hell of a hits to the head, but who's keeping count?"

Luna blinked as memory came flooding back. She was walking through the industrial park with Lincoln when...darkness.

With a flash of dread, she realized that he must have knocked her out. Her sweet, kind little brother...

...watched her with hate-filled eyes and a demon smile. He touched her wound again, and pain filled her. "I honestly thought I killed you."

"I thought I killed Luan too," Lucy said, and Luna's heart dropped. _Luan?_

Lincoln must have seen the look in her eyes, because his grin widened. "Ah, I almost forgot, the Queen of Comedy, The Ayatollah of Punny Crapola. She's here, too, Luna. Lucy bashed her head in with a hammer." Here he chuckled, and Luna's spirit withered. "I was going to use my fists on you, but then I saw the most _beautiful_ rock, and...well...you know how plans have a way of changing." He got up and disappeared. This couldn't be happening...it was a dream, a fucking nightmare.

Lucy smiled at her. There was no warmth to it. "I'm going to enjoy watching Lincoln kill you."

Luna shivered.

Lucy nodded. "I just hope he lets me help."

When Lincoln came back, he had his arm around Luan's neck, the blade of a kitchen knife pressed to her throat. "There she is, Miss A _merica_!" he sang. When Luna saw her lover, she died on the inside. Luan's face was beet red and tears leaked from her puffy eyes. Her wrists were bound with duct tape, but her ankles were free, allowing her to take small, trembling steps. His mouth was covered too. Lincoln smiled over her shoulder. "Isn't she lovely, Luna?" He turned and kissed Luan's neck. "I can see why you fell for her. She's funny...charming...and sweet as pie." He shook his head and made an obscene _umhmmmm_ noise.

Luan's terror filled eyes locked with Luna's, and Luna broke down crying.

"Aw," Lincoln said, pressing his lips against Luan's ear, "you're so beautiful you bring tears to her eyes." He flashed, and shoved Luan; her eyes widened and she stumbled forward, falling face-first next to Luna. Lucy watched with a tiny Mona Lisa smile.

Luan's head whipped around and she looked at Luna. Luna blinked back her tears and scooted closer to her sister, pressing their foreheads together.

"Now," Lincoln said, stripping his shirt off and tossing it aside, "what you are about to see may disturb you. It may shock you. It may anger you." He pulled down his pants and stepped out of him. He was wearing only his briefs and his socks. Luna's stomach twisted, and she pulled at her bonds, desperate to stop him and save her lover. He hooked his thumbs into his underwear and slid them down. His erect penis popped free. "It may even _arouse_ you," he said, and got to his knees. He reached under Luan's skirt and yanked her panties down. Luan sobbed and shook. "Parental discretion is advised."

Luna couldn't bear to watch. She put her cheek against Luan's and closed her eyes, their tears mingling.

Grabbing the knife, Lincoln pushed Luan's skirt up and mounted her. Luan stiffed and cried out in terror; Luna wept harder. "You know," Lincoln mused as he pulled her legs roughly apart, "this'll make the third sister I've fucked." He glanced at Lucy, and she was smiling widely.

When he thrust into Luan, she jumped and let out a strangled cry that went through Luna like broken glass. She longed to touch her sister, to put her arm around her and comfort her, but all she could do was press her face closer to hers. Her eyes opened against her will. Lincoln was looking down at her, a hateful smile on his face. "Watch me," he said, then chuckled darkly. "Watch me now!" He increased his speed: He was slamming into Luan as hard as he could, and pain filled her eyes. "I can mash potato," he grunted, leaning over and yanking Luan's ponytail. "I can do the twist." He pulled back as hard as he could, and Luan wailed. "Now tell me, baby, do you like it like this?"

Luna flexed her wrists desperately against the tape, a mixture of rage and animal fear coursing through her. She had to get free. She didn't know what she would do once she was, but she had to, had to...

Lincoln pulled back on Luan's ponytail as his eyes narrowed with his climax. When he lifted the knife, she froze. When he flashed it down and buried the blade into Luan's back, she screamed, the world blurring around her. Luan's eyes widened and she howled against the tape. Lincoln pulled the knife out and brought it down again...and again...and again, blood splashing across his face like war-paint. Lucy was leaning forward, watching intently.

Luan was sobbing, the blood slowly draining from her face.

"This..." Lincoln said, stabbing down, "is what," stab, "you get," stab.

The horror was too great, and Luna mercifully passed out.

She didn't know how long she was out, but when she came to, she was lying on her back, Lincoln and Lucy hovering over her. They were both nude.

 _Luan! Where was Luan?_

She tried to sit up, but Lincoln's fist crashed into her nose, and she fell back with a pained cry, blood gushing down her face. "Look what you made me do, Luna," he said. He brought the knife around, and Luna winced. This was it. She was going to die.

Instead of stabbing her, however, he ran the blade down the front of her shirt, ripping it. He grabbed it and yanked it off. He pressed the flat end of the blade against her quivering skin and then up under the front clasp of her bra. He wrenched the knife up, and the clasp broke. He grabbed it and pulled; her breasts fell free.

He smiled. "Nice knockers, sis," he leaned forward and wrapped his lips around one of her nipples. She squirmed against the hot, slimy feeling of his fevered mouth. Hurt, pain, horror, violation, and betrayal welled up in her chest, and she pulled against the tape binding her hands, the only thought in her mind freeing herself.

With an audible _plop,_ Lincoln pulled back from her breast and held out his left hand. "Nurse...pliers."

Luan watched with a burst of fear as Lucy slapped a pair of needle nose pliers into Lincoln's upturned palm. "Pliers, doctor," she said.

"You see, Miss Loud," Lincoln said, "there's an abnormal growth on your breast, and it might be cancerous." He held the cold metal tip of the pliers to her skin, and she shivered. "We have to operate."

When the pliers clamped around her nipple, Luna let out a long, throat-shredding screech, the pain worse than any she had ever felt in her life. Lincoln grinned and tightened his grip of the handles. Flesh ripped, blood gushed. Luna threw her head back, white hot agony filling her skull, burning away all thought, all emotion.

Lucy was panting heavily. The juncture of her legs was hot and moist. She reached a hand down and rubbed herself slowly as Lincoln twisted the pliers back and forth. Blood oozed down Luna's stomach, leaving red trails along her quaking skin. With her free hand, Lucy reached out, smeared her fingers in it, and lifted them to her lips. The taste was hot and coppery on her tongue, and she shivered in delight.

Lincoln yanked, and Luna's nipple tore off of her breast. Blood spurted into the air like a geyser. Luna screamed and thrashed back and forth, tears spilling down her cheeks. Lincoln held the business end of the pliers up to his face and studied the dark piece of meat; tendons and nerve endings poked from it like strands of limp spaghetti. "The operation was a success," he panted. He flicked it wrist, and the nipple went _splat_ against the wall, where it slowly slid down to the floor, leaving a greasy, bloody trail in its wake.

Luna was rocking hysterically back and forth, spraying blood everywhere; some spurted across Lucy's stomach, and the little girl rubbed it in like lotion.

"Stop!" Lincoln hissed, and grabbed her face. "It's just a nipple, Luna. Be glad it wasn't your fucking nose."

Luna pulled against the tape, rolling and working her wrists. She tried to focus on that and not the excruciating pain in her breast. Burning tendrils of sick, heady agony streaked through her body, and she felt like she was going to be sick. She looked into her brother's fevered eyes and all she could think was _How could he do this to me?_

Without breaking eye contact, he dropped the pliers and held his hand out to Lucy. "Knife, Nurse Loud."

Lucy handed him a butcher knife. "Knife, Dr. Loud."

He poked the blade against Luna's stomach, and she pulled harder at her bonds. Was it just her imagination, or was the tape getting looser? The knife's edge tore hotly and slowly across her skin, and she clenched her teeth. Lincoln bobbed his head from side to side as if to music only he could hear. _"I'll never be your beast of burden,"_ he sang softly as the tip reached her naval: A long, shallow slash oozed wetly _. "My back is broad, but it's a'hurtin."_ He pulled the knife away then touched it to Luna's cheek. _"All I want is for you to make love to me."_ He wrenched the knife down, and Luna cried out at the stinging pain. She felt dizzy and lightheaded. She flexed and worked her wrists. She had to get out of here or she was going to die _and where was Luan?_

Lincoln laughed manically. He leaned in until his lips were grazing her bloody cheek. Luna trembled; his breath was hot and stale. "You're dirty, sweet, and you're my girl."

His hand snaked up her thigh, and her entire body tensed. No...please...

"Get it on," he said, and licked her. "Right on."

He grabbed her panties and yanked them down to her knees. Ice formed in her stomach and she hysterically kicked her legs. Please, Lincoln, no, stop, God, please stop _stop!_

The panties came off and Lincoln got on top of her, pushing her skirt back with one hand and gripping the knife with the other. Luna knew one thing and one thing only: If she didn't get out soon, she was going to die.

"It's going to be easier on you than it was on Luan," he said. Then, to Lucy, "go get Luan."

Lucy nodded and got up.

Lincoln looked back down at Luna. She could feel his hard member throbbing against her opening, and she shivered. She watched him with hate filled eyes as she worked her bonds...worked...worked...constantly worked...

"She's a good little helper," he said of Lucy. "Even though she fucked up that bomb. It was supposed to blow you and Luan to bits."

When Lucy returned, she held something up. "Here she is."

Luna's eyes fell upon the severed head of her lover, swinging back and forth from a noose-like ponytail, and she screamed, all the rage, pain, hatred, horror, disgust, and terror coming out against the gag. Lincoln threw back his head and yelled too. Lucy smiled and added her voice to the chorus. Luna's mind blanked, and for a time, she was simply a throbbing mass of feeling.

When she came back to herself, Lincoln was looking down at her, his arms planted into the carpet on either side of her shoulders. He was panting. She knitted her brow and worked her bonds. They were looser now. She worked faster...faster...the only thing in her mind, in her heart , getting out and bashing his stupid freckled face in. He grinned and thrusted roughly into her. She wasn't aware of the feeling, wasn't aware of her how dry she was and how rough he was being...she focused only on twisting and rolling her wrists. _Come on, come on, come on, come on, come on._

"It's like coming home," he said, flopping against her and kissing her shoulder. "You're a fucking bitch, Luna...but I still love you. I'll always love you." He surged his hips forward, ripping her. She did not realize this. "No one will take your place. My heart will always belong to you."

Neither one saw the dark shadow cross Lucy's face.

Lincoln thrusted again and stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. She was bleeding and Lincoln was finding it a fine lubricant. "No one will ever replace you, Luna. I will never love anyone else."

Lucy's teeth were bared and her fists were clenched. She was shaking.

Lincoln drew a deep breath as his climax approached. "I love you. I'm stupid and I hate myself but I love you with all my heart..."

With a cry, Lucy threw herself at Lincoln, spearing him off of Luna. They crashed to the floor, Lincoln letting out a breathless _umph!_ Luna blinked.

"What the fuck are you doing, you dumb bitch?" Lincoln cried.

Luna worked her hands faster, faster, the tape coming looser with each roll of the wrists.

" _I hate you!"_ Lucy shrieked and pounded her fists against Lincoln's face. She was sitting on top of his chest, her head bent. _"I hate you!"_

The tape came loose, and Luna shot up with a cry as sickly pain burst across the back of her head.

Lincoln threw a punch, hitting Lucy in the face and knocking her off. He scrambled on top of her and wrapped his hands around her neck. _"You fucking bitch!"_

Luna leaned forward and pulled at the tape wound around her ankles, looking from that to her siblings and back again. Lucy brought her knee up and caught Lincoln's exposed testicles. He issued a girlish, high-pitched scream and fell over. Lucy sat up, and Luna went cold. The little girl's bangs had parted and her crystal blue eyes were pooled with mad hatred. She snatched something off the floor and climbed onto Lincoln.

" _Why don't you love me?"_

Luna tugged and pulled at the tape, her heart pounding.

" _Why don't you love me, Lincoln?"_

She brought the knife up and flashed it down. The blade sank into Lincoln's chest, and he screamed. Luna rubbed her ankles together. The tape was starting to come loose.

" _Love me! Love me! Love me!"_

Lucy raised the knife again and down, again and down. Lincoln wailed. "Stop! Lucy...please!"

Luna was crying again as she stretched the tape.

On the floor, Lincoln gurgled as blood filled his lungs. Lucy sat stoically atop him, her shoulders rising and falling. Then, the knife dropped from her fingers and she pressed her hands against her mouth. "Lincoln..."

The tape was thin and loose. Luna pulled with both hands, and it snapped.

 _"Lincoln!"_

Luna ripped the tape from her mouth and sucked a deep breath.

Bowing her head, Lucy wept. "Lincoln..."

Luna started to get to her feet, but a wave of nausea crashed over her. The adrenaline that coursed through her moments ago was fading, and she was aware of a thousand aches and pains, the worst in her head and breast.

Screaming, Lucy's head whipped around, and Luna shrank back. _"You!"_ the little girl raged. _"You made me do this!"_

Lucy leapt at her, and Luna screamed; the little girl's shoulder crashed into Luna's stomach, and she fell back hard against the floor.

" _You took him away from me!"_ Lucy cried, bringing her fist down against Luna's chin. Stars burst across Luna's field of vision. _"You're the reason he couldn't love me!"_

Lucy's fist came up again, but Luna, crying out in rage, shoved the little girl back; she landed on the floor in a heap and smacked her head on the wall, stunning her just long enough for Luna to get to her feet.

Shaking her head, Lucy did likewise, mindless now with fury. She threw herself at Luna with a furious shriek, but Luna dodged, grabbed a handful of Lucy's hair, and brought her knee up into the girl's face; she felt her nose crunch, and hot blood gushed onto her leg. She did it again and again, then shoved her. She fell against the wall and collapsed to the floor where she lay still.

Panting and disoriented, Luna turned, and her eyes fell to the thing on the floor...the thing that was once her beautiful sister's head. Greif crashed down upon her, and she sank to her knees. She wept bitterly into her hands, and then ran her fingers through Luan's hair. "I love you, baby," she said, her voice cracking, "I love you so much."

She picked her lover up and cradled her in her arms, rocking back and forth as tears spilled from her cheeks and landed in Luan's hair.

When Luna finally stumbled away, she took the head with her.

* * *

Sobbing into one hand, a little girl with black hair and blood crusted on her face upends a metal can and splashes yellowish liquid against faux-wood paneled walls, onto ancient shag carpeting, and onto the surface of a reception desk. She is shaking with the power of her grief; it fills the tiny space, a chilling, heartbroken sound. She splashes some of the lighter fluid onto thick blue curtains, and still more across the walls. The smell of it is starting to become cloying.

When the can is empty, she tosses it aside and goes back to her backpack. Her tears have dried, and her eyes are vacant, the eyes of a corpse. She rummages inside, and finds what she is looking for. A white Bic lighter.

Shuffling, she comes dazedly to the curtain and studies it as though she's never seen one before, cocking her head to one side. With a sigh, she flicks the lighter and touches it to the fabric. Fire catches, and races up, crackling hungrily. She turns and crosses to the reception desk.

 _The flames burn glaringly higher  
_

 _And the eyes that stare  
_

 _Through the darkness_

She flicks it again, and flames race across the plane of the desk. Behind her, the wall is quickly becoming engulfed. The smell of smoke and the heat of fire reach her, but she does not notice, nor would she care if she did.

 _Burn the flames._

She gets on her knees and runs a trembling hand through her brother's white hair. His eyes are closed and blood stains his lips. Pain washes through her, and tears begin to drip down her cheek. _I'm sorry, Lincoln._

She leans forward and kisses him, the taste of his blood filling her mouth.

 _Higher and higher._

As the trailer catches around her, and the blistering heat licks her skin, she lays on her side and wraps her arms around him, throwing one leg over his stomach. She leans forward and kisses his cold cheek, then buries her face in the crook of his neck as if for protection from the approaching fire; she looks very small and fragile in that moment. "I love you, Lincoln," she says, the tears coming faster. "And I'll find you."

The fire closes in.

 _Never to expire._

* * *

 **Songs Referenced:**

 _ **There She is (Miss America)**_ **by Bert Parks (1955)**

 _ **Do You Love Me?**_ **by The Contours (1962)**

 _ **Beast of Burden**_ **by The Rolling Stones (1978)**

 _ **Get It On**_ **by T-Rex (1971)**

 _ **Burn the Flames**_ **by Roky Erickson (1985)**

* * *

 **Author's Note: Apparently my portrayal of Luna rubbed a lot of people the wrong way. That was not my intention. For the record: I don't think Luna did anything overly wrong. She's a fifteen-year-old girl who was in a dark place, got drunk, and made a mistake. It happens. Having said that, I was #TeamLucy all along. I had so much fun writing her that after I finished this story (it was done before I even started posting it) I decided to write a sequel to my Lucy x Lincoln ship "Dark as Night." It is called "Cold as Ice" and the first chapter will be up today. Hope to see you there.**


	10. An American Tragedy: The Soundtrack

**An American Tragedy: The Soundtrack out now from Flagg Records...in case anyone wanted to check out any of the songs I referenced. I recommend the Charles Manson song as it's actually pretty good (and haunting). Dude wasn't half bad. Burning up the Night has the cheesiest music video in all human history. I love eighties hair metal, but these dudes took it a little too far. The version of We'll Meet Again is a 1953 rerecord that appeared at the end of the movie Dr. Strangelove over a montage of the nuclear holocaust. That is the movie Lucy saw it in.**

* * *

Lovefool by The Cardigans: /NI6aOFI7hms

I Don't Like Monday's by The Boomtown Rats: /8yteMugRAc0

You Dropped a Bomb On Me by The Gap Band: /17lkdqoLt44

We'll Meet Again by Vera Lynn (from Dr. Strangelove): /wxrWz9XVvls

Love Song by AC/DC: /sBOSt4C_xqg

Glad to See You Go by The Ramones: /PuIHuOLcg38

Cease to Exist by Charles Manson: /D1MmHGoKq1Y

Burning up the Night by Krokus: /COSmLnpM2uM

He Hit Me (And It Felt Like A Kiss) by The Crystals: /f20Oz9Yr_So

Comfortably Numb by Pink Floyd: /Sf3pc-7gfOg

Heart-Shaped Box by Nirvana: /n6P0SitRwy8

Loser by Beck: /YgSPaXgAdzE

No More Tears by Ozzy Osbourne: /CprfjfN5PRs

Yellow Submarine by The Beatles: /W9ChuayFRwI

Partytime by 45 Grave: /0Ly4611uL6Q

Miss America Theme by Bert Parks: /LSm4kp-uJoE

Do You Love Me? by The Contours: /3EoI-6lQFIE

Beast of Burden by The Rolling Stones: /-tRdBsnX4N4

Get It On by T. Rex: /wZkTh_T75QY

Burn the Flames by Roky Erickson: /y-TT3tnFcRQ


End file.
